


Catching Smoke

by Chromophilic_Daydream



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Kurusu Akira Has A Palace, Alternate Universe- "Good Ending", Angst, Author is bad at tags., Canonical Character Death, Depression, Eventual tags to add, Fix-It of Sorts, Humiliation, Implied Child Abuse, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post Engine Room, Rating will go up, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, There are lots of tears., Trauma, attempted self-harm, despair ailment, figurative role reversal, implied PTSD, more character tags to come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2018-12-13 01:43:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 104,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11749494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chromophilic_Daydream/pseuds/Chromophilic_Daydream
Summary: Being a leader meant putting the team before his own feelings, being a rock, a solid foundation to build their confidence. Being a leader meant saving face in times of crisis, even personal ones, for the sake of all those who relied on him. Being a leader meant being strong-willed and confident in times of need, a guiding hand to lead those who needed him. A leader was not someone who faltered under great stress. A leader was not someone who pursued hypotheticals and what-ifs for personal gain. A leader was not someone who chased after ghosts and tried to catch them in his hands at the cost of the blood of the living.Yet Kurusu Akira could not let go of a dead man.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy this, the premise came to me while discussing several things I noticed in Persona 5 during my play throughs. The actual premise, however, will take a while to get to. I'd like to thank menthechocolat for being my beta and talking through this beast with me. You are always the best.

     The ache in his body was a dull sort, one he had grown accustomed to after the last several months of being a Phantom Thief. His muscles had finally begun to relax from the constant surge of adrenaline that tensed them. His mind also usually began feeling hazy from the lack of stimulus that demanded his keen eye. The sensation of exhaustion always lasted a few days, maximum... but this felt different somehow. He was tired, but not in the same way. He felt nothing but that slow, pulsing throb of pain amplified by the cold intake of winter air in his lungs. 

     The attic of Leblanc was filled with creaks and crevices, whispers of cold drifting through them, despite the overbearing heat from the small portable furnace near his bed. The windows along the wall were clouded and dripping light condensation from the chilly air outside. He stared at the droplets of water that were pooling on the ledge. Quietly, he traced a finger over one of the drops clinging to the glass and watched it fall. His mind was running in circles, his body sore from the battle that had ended just hours ago.

     Every other time he had done this, some small sense of satisfaction, of justice perhaps, kept him hopeful. They had saved someone, done something to better the world. It was formulated and calculated, doubt of their victory growing smaller and smaller with every Palace dismantled. This time he didn't feel that way. Even though they won, it was a hollow victory, one that demanded no celebration and no cheering. Not from him anyway.

     Perhaps victory was too strong a word. Perhaps it couldn’t even be considered a victory. The war they won was nothing compared to the battle he lost just a few days before, in the engine room of the massive ship they just sank. Comparatively, that battle was worth a thousand wars and that was why the exhaustion that etched itself into his body was not a satisfying one. It was not one that left him feeling accomplished. It rendered him restless and weary. This whole journey had done nothing to prepare him for the consequences of loss. Nothing in his whole life could have trained him to thaw whatever mess of emotions he had been avoiding since that day that felt like it had been years ago, that felt like moments ago.

     Up until last year, he lived a perfectly ordinary life. Quiet and reserved in the countryside with his family. His life was uneventful…peaceful… relatively painless. He messed up again. For a moment he wished he could turn back time… go back to how he was before.

     The thought of trading his current life for that one made his stomach clench. It had been the first time he ever thought of it that way. Would he trade the life had been living the last year for the one he had two years ago? It was never something he thought about, just always continued forward through the ordeals that met him. He saw it as a challenge, and took some sort of smug satisfaction from taking down pompous assholes who thought of no one else but themselves. Fate had led him to this moment and fate ultimately lead him down a path that was cruel to him, to all of them, really.

     It had been a fickle thing indeed, ebbing away at any kind of optimism he held close. He didn’t consider himself a skeptic by any stretch of the imagination, but fate was never something he believed was absolute. Its whims and woes swam, forever circulating in a sea of souls, treasuring some and garnishing others. He was one of the others, now.

     And he was beginning to feel trapped in a cage he couldn't riddle his way out of.

     After the last month, however, he began to see doubt lining every action he took. He would second guess something he normally wouldn’t in the heat of battle. A Shadow would strike him and he would flinch, reminded of the room where he suffered at the fists of adults. He would make stupid errors in Mementos, spacing out in the course of battle, which added to insult to actual injury. He took a more passive voice in making decisions, doubt painted his words where he’d normally be strong. If he made the wrong decision, after all, it could eventually get them killed, right? He had been struggling with his role of leadership since the interrogation room, uncertainty poisoning his vision. Any sort of sureness was blinded, clouded over by indecision and they all suffered for it.

     He knew his team mates saw his change as well, though none of them made comments on it. He was grateful for it, any prying into why their leader’s abilities seemed to diminish would have forced him to deal with the situation and it wasn’t something he was emotionally ready to deal with yet.

     Luckily the ship provided enough of a focus for him to hone in on, to lead him away from the pain eating away inside of him.

     But now things were different, there was nothing left for them to do now except wait. So for the first time in a few weeks that he had finally been given a moment to process everything that happened up until now… It was overwhelming. The ship, the fight, the things he learned… it was all a muddled mess that needed to be sorted out and processed, then filed away. If he could do away with the thoughts that intruded his mind now. If only he could be that cold, he could just push it away and deal with it some other time. Or never deal with it. Just forget everything.

     But he wasn’t cruel, he couldn’t forget, even though he wished he could. There were just too many questions unanswered that were undercutting his thoughts. Distractions. But they weren’t something he wanted to stop either. Instead, those questions continued to cycle through his head but he could not afford to dwell on them when they did. Another thing to add to his growing list of failures.

     He pushed himself, kept telling himself the hard part soon to be over after they defeated Shido. In reality it hadn’t even started yet. How did one even start to cope with death, especially when that person could have been saved. Especially when he could have saved that person. Especially when the bond he shared with that person was unlike any other he had acquired since being in Shibuya. It was almost like a part of himself was severed and decaying and all he could do was watch from behind cold bars and let it happen.

     This must be just a fraction of how Haru felt. He didn't understand how she handled it as well as she did, how strong she must be to continue to care for others before herself. He was not as strong as her. He had wondered, for a brief moment, if he could have confided in her. But he couldn’t bring himself to. It would have been too painful for the both of them, probably. It would have just been acknowledgement that Akechi was really gone.

     He couldn't even bring himself to accept what happened, hadn't allowed himself to. Every prospect of hope was taken from him when the shutters closed, when those gunshots were heard…

     When Oracle told him that she couldn’t feel him there anymore, he was on autopilot. The rest of the Palace had been a blur of actions and reactions. He wasn’t even sure if he messed up at points, but he didn’t recall. Only now, at this point in time, where he was watching water drip down cold glass and listening to the soft humming noise of the portable heater blasting, did that autopilot switch off.

     While trying to sort out his feelings about Akechi Goro.

     While he was trying desperately to avoid sorting out his feelings about Akechi Goro.

     All those questions he was desperate to know answers to were now frozen in a state of limbo. He didn’t know why Akechi did any of the things he did. He knew he barely scratched the surface during their fight in the engine room, now all hope of answering anything was completely gone.

     Yet he still wanted to know. During their short time together, did Akechi really have this entire thing planned out? Did he really want him dead? What had happened in the interrogation room that made their bond grow deeper? What lead Akechi to the decisions he made? He did have any hobbies? Did he really ever show his real feelings before? How did he awaken his persona? Why did he seem actually happy whenever he was in Leblanc?

     Never would any of them be answered.

     Just for that, he was looking forward to Shido confessing every disgusting thing he ever did. Not for his own sake, but for those who had lost their lives because of him. Once they defeated his shadow, it took everything in him to keep from laughing, that bubbling of anger was the one emotion he reveled in. All he wanted to do was make him beg more for forgiveness, and deny him such. Never before had he been tempted to kill a Palace Ruler. The itch in his finger on the trigger was a thrill like no other. If he had been alone, maybe… maybe he would have put the final bullet in that bastard’s head. 

     It was better this way though. It would be interesting to see the whole world turn on him, just like he had turned his back on Akechi. He pushed the thought away, focusing on Shido making a fool of himself made him feel a little better about the situation. He hoped his promise of taking him down would pan out, he needed at least that to happen.

     “Hey, Akira?”

     His attention turned from the water that lazily slipped down the window and to Morgana, whose voice took him from his thoughts and brought him back to reality. Reality where he had to put on the air of being some valiant leader.

     “Look, I know you are probably anxious, but this is just like the last times!” Morgana really did try a little too hard to be reassuring sometimes, but he could tell this was just a projection of his friend’s own anxiety. He wasn’t nervous… he was just aching and... numb. Drained. He watched the cat pace in front of him, mumbling something to himself that he didn't quite catch.

     "We got the guy, and we did it and were unscathed! Even though Ryuji scared us-"

     Unscathed. What a funny word to use. A lump formed in his throat and he forced it down, his mouth was dry. He almost lost another person precious to him in that ship. Someone who was close to him, that shared a special bond with him. He was thankful Ryuji was okay, he just wished he hadn't been the only one to emerge ‘unscathed’ from the sinking ship. He understood now why he had been so anxious once he saw his best friend walk up to them unharmed. He had been so close to that explosion, so to see him walking, talking and taking a beating from the girls just fine... made him hopeful. He doubted anyone noticed when he looked around them to see if someone else happened to walk up to them and join in the banter as well. 

     No one came.

     Why didn't he come back? The bitterness that clung to chest, stabbing him with utter disappointment, sharper than any enemy's weapon ever could be. It made him feel sick, he should have just been thankful his best friend was alive and well. For a split second, he was. But he wasn't satisfied.

     What he would have given for that soft, airy, formal voice to join in with them, determining where they were going to go eat after their success. If only it could have been that simple. If fate had gifted the opportunity, he would have gladly sold his soul. 

     And he didn't understand why. He couldn't grasp why he felt so strongly about someone who had attempted to murder him. He couldn't even tell if it was a positive emotion he was feeling as he waded through his thoughts.

     The absence of Morgana's voice brought him back to the conversation he was barely listening to.

     He pushed his glasses up on his nose and turned completely to Morgana. Silence meant that it was his time to talk, his cue to answer whatever worry was haunting his confidant. Blue eyes were staring him down, quizzically, intensely. His pose was stiff and unmoving. That meant he was nervous, right? So he had to calm him. 

     That's what a great leader would do, after all. A great leader would reassure his team mate that they would be alright, even when failure of a mission would mean literal death. A great leader would know the exact words to use to empower those around him and bring out excellence in them. A great leader would give profound insight into the next plan of attack.

     A great leader would not be on the verge of breaking down over the loss of a fallen rival.

     And Joker was a great leader.

     In a practiced, even tone of voice that he had been using since he assumed the role of the head of the Phantom Thieves, Akira answered him. Doing his best impression of the masked leader he became while in the Metaverse.

     "Yeah, I think it'll be fine. I'm not worried. I'll be happy to see Shido confess to everything he's done. It'll be interesting to see the tables turn and that bastard get what's coming to him."

     The grin that he felt spread on his lips was not his own. It, like his persona, was a mask he wore. Joker's way of speaking was different from Akira's, cold and confident. The edge of arrogance never hidden from anyone he ever spoke to. He was steady and sure-minded. Silver-tongued and suave. Joker was cut-throat and calculating. Joker knew how to be the leader the Phantom Thieves needed.

     Akira was not Joker.

     But somehow, Joker always seemed to have the right answer.

     Morgana instantly sighed and nodded in affirmation.

     "You're right, see! I knew you wouldn't be worried... I'll be happy when this is over. And Mementos... there's gotta be something there."

     Those dreams Morgana had been having seemed more and more frequent recently, it would have taken an idiot not to notice how they affected his companion. The stinging in his eyes did not cease, but he bottled his feelings up again in favor of others.

     “Hm. I'm sure we'll find the answers there, Morgana. We haven't given up yet.” He hummed, the corners of his lips pulling down into their nature position. Morgana shook his head and smiled at him. Akira could almost feel his resolve strengthened and he envied it, wishing selfishly that his confidence could be boosted as easily.

     "Today was really rough, we should go sleep. Let's put this down as a success for the Phantom Thieves and celebrate later when Shido confesses! Then let's find the end of Mementos!"

     Akira's gaze followed Morgana's tail as he leapt from the desk over to the bed and curled up almost instantly, seemingly satisfied, or at least putting up the air that he was satisfied with their conversation. Morgana had gotten easier to read with the passing months and after the blow out with Ryuji, he was far more observant about his friend. It was easy to tell when he was upset, so for now, he was okay.

     Which was a far cry better than Akira felt... he wasn't ready to go to sleep though his body was begging him to accept the invitation. More than rest, he craved solace. Just a few minutes to regain his composure. A few minutes to take deep breathes and cram his emotions into a dark area of his mind and ignore them until he could deal with them. It would take was a few minutes.

     He was exhausted, but his mind was made up. It needed to be done so he could carry on. At least until Shido confessed and justice prevailed. He stood up from the chair and started to make his way towards the stairs.

     "Where are you going? It's late! You must b-"

     "I’m going to make some coffee.” Akira cut him off with same clean, even tone as he slipped on house shoes by the stairs.

     "But it's late!" 

     He turned and shot Morgana a planted smile. "Well if we are going to go down to the depths soon, I need to be as prepared as possible right? I'm making it for the group. I'll be right back up."

     Morgana's tail flicked against the bedding in irritation and he let out a long, exaggerated sigh. 

     "Fine. I'll let it slide, just this time! Don't take too long, you hear? And don't make a mess! We just cleaned up that big one earlier.”

     He heard him nagging as he made his way down the stairs. His legs felt like they were casted in lead as he descended, but his pace did not slow. He actually had no interest in actually making coffee, but he was now under the obligation of doing such. It would give him something else to focus while he thought, other than the waves of emptiness that threatened to capsize him at any moment. Yes, coffee would be his new welcomed distraction.

     He flipped on the light and made his way around counter to start up the grinding machine. Luckily none of the equipment had been damaged during the search for him today. He was grateful that none of Shido’s henchmen did any serious harm other than making a mess. He waited a moment to see if Morgana changed his mind and was going to follow him downstairs. He didn’t. He must not have been too worried. It was better that way. Mindlessly, he grabbed one of the few unbroken jars and weighed out the beans before dumping them into the grinder. The noise was a comforting one.

     He could feel the draft of winter creeping into the cafe around him, and he rubbed his hands together to take the chill that was dwelling in his finger tips while the beans continued to grind. Quietly, Akira began to steam the water in the dripper and set up the filter almost out of muscle memory, his mind far away from Leblanc. He could feel his body relaxing as he set up the pour over. All he needed to do right now was make a cup of coffee. Echoing his decision to regain his cool, he repeated to himself that now wasn't the time. He could deal with everything else at another point when it was safer to do so. That would be the wisest thing to do, wait until everything had blown over to sort out the pieces of his emotions he was trying to shove into a small box in the deepest part of his mind. That was the best he could do at this point. Just try to forget about him.

     Try to forget about the way he sought Akira out, about how he asked him how he was doing that day and if he had gotten enough rest. Banish the sounds he made when he was trying to dig deeply into a situation. Those soft hums of comprehension, followed by a split second smile that radiated some smug satisfaction. He probably thought that no one noticed, but Akira did. The way he laughed when he had the upper-hand in battle, the small motions he when he was victorious and proud. The way his eyes softened when he spoke about his past, that lingering look of yearning for something he couldn't seem to reach... someone he missed. Those times when he brushed his gloved hands through his hair to keep it from touching the surface of his coffee when he visited Leblanc.

     Akira could have reached out and grabbed that hand, and held it. He could have. He wanted to several times, but never acted on such impulses. It felt intrusive to even crave such a thing...

     But if he did, if he had, how would he have reacted? He could practically see it now, Akechi staring at him as he once again managed to surprise the detective, somehow. Maybe another soft, genuine smile would grace those lips. Those lips which could say the saddest and kindest things at moments he least expected it. Those lips that housed a voice that twisted from a fabricated projection of what society expected of him to the reality of a hurt and abandoned child with nothing to lose and everything to prove. That voice that often was hushed by his own hand when he was deep in thought.

     Yes, he could have held that hand, provided some comfort to someone who was hurting so badly, squeezed it tightly and never let go. What would have happened next? Would he have let his defenses down more? Or would the opposite hold true, so Akira would have had to work harder to get through to him? To let him know he was just as important as everyone else in his life? Would he have even accepted that answer or danced around the situation to find the quickly escape possible?

     Now was definitely not the appropriate time to think about such things. He swallowed thickly and nodded to himself. Uncertainty and regret picked at the pit that was forming in his stomach. He couldn't handle this right now. He couldn't think about such things that made his eyes sting and his chest tight.

     However wavering his resolve was at that moment, he was going to carry on... for the both of them.

     It was the least he could do for him, right? For all them really, be the strong leader they expected him to be.

     Only...

     As strong as he pretended to be, right now he was not able to even convince himself as he stared down at the cup of coffee he didn't know he poured. But there it sat, at the end of the counter by the yellow pay phone and in front of the small book collection. He didn't know he was staring at the seat, whose usual occupant would never sit there and smile at him ever again. Because that occupant was dead.

     He was dead and there was nothing Akira could do for him anymore.

     A quiet exhalation of air passed his lips and trail of warm slipped down his cheek. When did he start crying? Stubbornly he wiped the tears away, the jarring feeling of his own cold fingers on his damp face amplified his weakness. The cracks in his armor splintering with the own realization that this may be too much for him to bare. Then suddenly, everything was too much. the pain in his muscles now overpowered by the tight feeling in his chest that zapped away whatever remaining strength he had in his leg, robbing him of his balance. Quietly, he slid down the wall under the large silver clock, the ticking sound falling out of sync with his breathing. He could hear it, loudly, a roaring of wind that heaved from his lungs, creating a dusting of fog in the chilled night air. Was he choking? He didn't know, it hurt to breathe. It really hurt to breathe.

     He continued to gasp for breath, greedily, like he deserved it. The space around him felt so small, like if he reached out he would hit a wall, he was in a box. A box that was much too small. His legs wouldn't let him get out. He was trapped.

_Your heart is always free. The exact opposite of mine-_

     This is probably how he felt, no way to run, no power to do so. It was nauseating and humiliating. Guilt was replacing the air in his lungs and all he could do was curl up into a huddle and close his eyes. He needed to keep breathing, right? He needed to be better than this, he couldn't fail now.. not when he was so close.

     Kurusu Akira was not as powerful as Joker.

     Kurusu Akira was not as enduring as Akechi Goro.

     Kurusu Akira was a person who's only skill was putting on different faces to protect himself.

     Akechi would have laughed at him if he could. Probably... he couldn't know for sure. Right now he wasn’t even positive he knew the real Akechi. He thought he did at one point… he thought he understood, but that understanding grew into uncertainty with every new revelation. From that first time he met the detective, the image of his calm and collected face was etched into his eyelids. Someone else who wore a false face in front of others, much like how he did. It didn't take a genius to see the face that Akechi wore in public was not a true reflection... but with Akira.. it felt different. Sincere? Like he wasn't hiding himself at all.

     But was that all a lie? Akechi showed a different side of himself in the end.

     It was amazing really to see that sincerity shed light to some distorted mess of revenge and justice. But it resonated with him, he understood that aspect of Akechi. An outsider trying to find a place to belong to, to prove himself time and time again.

     Maybe that was it, why this was affecting him so badly. It could have very easily been any of them, but more importantly, it could have very easily have been him.

     And he would have done the same thing in that situation.

     Probably.

     It was that fluctuation, that hesitancy that weighed him down. That feeling of the unknown and the knowledge that he would never know. There was no point dwelling on what-ifs and hypothetical situations. What was real was Akechi was gone. All of the questions he had would stay with him the rest of his life, unanswered.

     If only he could ask, one more time. If only he could understand, maybe he could-

     "Hey."

     A soft voice from the staircase cut through the silence that hung in the air. For the second time that night, his eyes met Morgana's, the latter's ears pressed against his head. He began hopping down the rest of the way and around the bar.

     "I heard something fall. Did you drop something?" His friend spoke slowly, like if he talked too fast or too loud, Akira wouldn't understand.

     His fingers untwisted in his hair, his breathing settling only as Morgana grew closer. He cleared his throat and started to get up, his legs only trembling in the slightest.

     Enduring.

     "Akira-"

     "I'm fine." There was that voice again, he barely recognized it as his own sometimes. It was raspier and slower than he intended but it was there, that sureness he was getting very good at faking. He was grateful that his bangs were long and his glasses were still on, probably masked his red rimmed eyes better that way. He straightened out his clothes and dared a glance over to his friend, who was still staring him down like he were some weird alien with four heads.

     "Let me just clean this up." He hummed under his breath, which was evening now, swallowing a surge of nausea. He didn't venture to look at Morgana again, he could hear his tail flicking against the counter where he had prepared the coffee.

     "Okay... are you sure you're alright?" The flat tone of Morgana's voice told him he knew something was wrong, and he was not going to be convinced easily.

     He nodded in response, not really trusting himself to keep up the charade much longer. He didn't know how Akechi wore such expressions for so long. Maybe, if it were him he would try to throw whoever was prodding off his back. Assessing the situation, he understood Morgana was worrying about him, knew he would ask more questions. How would he go about this. Any more questions about his wellbeing would end up with him on the floor again, he was certain.

     He knew Morgana had more questions that he didn't have answers for.

     He had to endure it. 

     "Absolutely, I think I'm just tired. You were right. It's been a very long and trying day, after all!"

     He could almost hear that small laugh, almost see Akechi shaking his head and call him pathetic. Which Akechi would that have been? Would it have been a soft chuckle and a slight shake of his head? Would it have been dripping in condescension and a cruel laugh. Which one... 

     He didn't have a chance to dwell on the thought.

     "Hmm.." Morgana jumped down on a stool as Akira moved to clean the filter and dripper. "The fight today was really tough, and with the cafe being such a mess when we got back too…  I think you should have listened to me and just rested."

     Akira nodded in obedience and offered a careful smile as he finished cleaning, the command salting his wounded pride.

     "You're always right, Morgana."

     He heard an arrogant scoff behind him as his still stinging eyes fell upon the small, lonesome cup that was placed right beside the pay phone. His chest tightened as he reached for it and brought it over to the sink. It was cold now. For a second he felt lost again, like the room was too small once more. He quietly reached up and grabbed a thermos and poured the coffee into it and  tucked it away in the fridge. Morgana was talking but he wasn't paying attention, exhaustion now shutting down parts of his mind and tuning out the chattering of his teammate.

     After closing up Leblanc's coffee area, he forced himself upstairs and to his unevenly warmed room and instantly fell asleep when his head hit the pillow, no strength left in him to wipe away the residual tears that stained the corners of his eyes underneath his glasses.

     Sleep was the only place he had relief from the weight of reality that bored into him, a place where Akechi Goro was lived on.

     It was poor imitation indeed. So poor that he didn’t even recall the next morning.

* * *

     The slow days to follow brought him little rest, the exhaustion of battle no longer plaguing his fatigued body allowed his mind the temptation to wander more. He kept himself busy throughout the days that he was supposed to be laying low. Frequent trips to the arcade in Akihabara and to Shinjuku at night to strengthen his bonds helped him feel like he was taking control of the spiraling chaos that his life had become. He occupied his time with helping those in need, like he actually made a difference in their lives. All he had done was listen to them, but he couldn't help but feel it helped him more than it them. It helped put his mind on the issues in front of him, and not on ones that passed. It kept him busy.

     The nights were the hardest, especially the ones where he couldn’t manage to sleep well. Underlying frustration with waiting and the anticipation of going back to school soon had him on edge. Everything around him set his nerves ablaze and the cool touch of his bed and lumpy pillow did little to calm him. All aspects of his life were a juggling act, and he was running out of hands.

     Leblanc was no longer the safe haven it had become, it wasn't a welcoming place. Not because of anything the cafe itself had done, but because of his own weaknesses, his own faults. It was somewhere he had to go at night to attempt to sleep, while trying to disregard his troubles as meager and simplistic. While Sojiro had always greeted him when he stepped in and the fragrant smell of warm coffee warmed his nose, he no longer felt at ease there. 

     It wouldn't have been a stretch to say that he dreaded going back to Leblanc. His shoulders would tense as he got off the local line, knowing that he'd soon have to walk into a place that used to provide him comfort... now it was just a painful reminder with nothing to distract him. He loathed it. The small bells above the heavy wooden door were brisk and shrill. He was reminded of when he set off an alarm in a Palace. They always alerted to his comings and goings. Before it wouldn't have crossed his mind, but now it was a very tangible reminder that he was there for the night and the night would not bring him rest. The night would just mock him as his mind danced in circles around intruding thoughts and hopeless what-ifs. 

     "Welcome back." Sojiro said, barely sparing him a glance while he dried a ceramic cup. Akira's tired eyes followed the motion of his hand cleaning then nodded slightly. 

     "I'm home." 

     He caught Sojiro's eyes again, staring at him for just a spell longer than would be considered normal. He wanted to talk then. After completing his shift at 777 and dealing with customers, he was ready to go attempt to sleep, but if Sojiro needed something, he would have to listen.

     Even though only one customer lingered, the air was stifling hot and muggy inside. In contrast to the cold outside the heavy wooden door, it thawed Akira almost instantly, to the point of feeling sticky. The old furnace working overtime gave a loud hum that was hard to ignore, but he tried anyway.

     Louder than the hum of the furnace was the sigh from Sojiro's direction.

     "You've been pretty quiet recently." That was definitely concern. Concern covered by... something else he couldn't quite put his finger on.

     "I'm usually pretty quiet." 

     "Nah, that's not what I meant. You've been more quiet than usual. Don't think I didn't notice." The older man scratched the back of his head, the lights from above bouncing off of his glasses and shielding his eyes from observation.

     Now it was Akira's time to sigh. Walking over to the bar he sat down, ignoring the customer behind him who was just paying for his coffee before leaving. The sharp trill of the bells met his ears again and once more, he felt like the world was closing in on him, that everyone was aware of his internal thoughts. Thoughts where he even wondered if he could be a leader anymore, thoughts where he missed Akechi who always sat in the chair next to where he was sitting.

     "Kid. You listening?" 

     He missed something. Gray eyes lifted from the seat to his right and up to his caretaker's face again. 

     "Sorry, I had a difficult shift at work. What did you say?" Akira lied, shifting in his seat and leaning forward with his elbows on the counter of the bar.

     Sojiro shook his head in obvious disapproval. Sojiro was a man who pretended to be exasperated to cover his insecurities. It was an interesting tactic for pushing others away, not letting them get close. Akira likened him to a cactus, a succulent who's rough and prickly appearance could be sharp but inside was nothing but sweet water.  

     "I said, you've been really off recently. I'm not stupid.”

     Oh. Maybe that was it. Maybe there was nothing but concern that held in Sojiro’s expression. He was worried about him.  He’d have to change that. 

     “I don’t know what you mean?” He feigned, raising his eyebrows with mock ignorance. A hushed question, rushed so the microphones that littered Leblanc didn’t pick up their conversation. Right now, he considered himself lucky that Morgana was not here, physically, to overhear this conversation. He was already at the Sakura house talking with Futaba about something he didn’t bother himself with. If it was important, he was sure he’d hear about it later. At least he could put off his friends pestering him if he played his cards right in this conversation. He was sure those two were listening in and even if they weren’t, it wasn’t a risk he was willing to take.

     It was always a bartering game with Akira. 

     Sojiro’s shoulders dropped, his eye contact broke off from Akira’s. Hesitant. Things were going to get personal.

     “Go flip the sign closed so we don’t have anymore damn people walking in here.”

     Akira slid off the chair without further command. Though the likelihood of someone actually walking in was zero to none, the formality cemented that things were going to get uncomfortable. After locking them in, he returned to his seat.

     By the time he made it back, there was a cup of hot coffee placed in front of him.

     Just a few days ago that was him on the other side of that counter, offering coffee to no one…

     He didn’t drink it.

     Sojiro didn’t seem to notice.

     “You’ve been very distant since you came back from… wherever those assholes took you. I wasn’t born yesterday, this is affecting you worse than you are letting on, especially in the last few days.”

     A pause, an answer. A confirmation? He denied it slowly, protesting not too much, not too little.

     “Maybe… there’s just a lot going on.” It was a solid answer, emphasizing the uncertainty before continuing. “I guess it’s a lot of stress, I think I’ll feel better after Shido confesses-.”

     “Don’t bullshit me.”  

     Akira stopped mid-sentence, falling quiet as he gave way to Sojiro's interruption. Something cold settled at the pit of his stomach.

     "Look, I know I don't know everything. Hell, I don't know half the shit you've been doing with the Phantom Thieves but I get it. You gotta keep yourself together. You're the leader, right? But you can't keep pushing yourself beyond what you can do." Sentiment bloomed in Sojiro's voice, the cactus sprouting a blossom of worry that truly embodied everything this man was. A man, wise to his years, a wealth of knowledge under a rugged exterior that was built up from years of vulnerability. Akira wondered if he would end up like Sojiro one of these days, if he made it that far. It wouldn’t be so bad, really.

     "Your friends, they are good kids, I'm glad they have had such a positive influence on a thug like you. But I don't think they see what I see. I'm a lot more life experience than them. I know you are hurtin' more than you are letting on, I know that look. I see it everyday in the mirror." He let out a sigh and rolled his shoulders. massaging his neck. Akira's gaze drifted down at the untouched coffee in front of him.

     His palms ached from his fingernails digging into them. It was that easy to tell, huh? Sojiro opening up to him because he has also suffered loss. Under any other circumstances, it may have been soothing, having this heart to heart with his temporary guardian. But now, his whole body shivered under the spreading dread that seeped through his veins. Of course he would have noticed. Sojiro had mentioned how close he was to Wakaba before she died, which means the others who have lost someone important would have noticed too. Maybe. 

     "Because of-"

     "Yeah. Everyone has suffered with some kind of grief, Akira. And it's okay to express it. Don't let it just eat you alive. It can be your worst enemy. Worse than that warped desire y’all are always talking about.”

     "I'm fine." His words came out in a whisper, a soft cloud of uncertainty passing his lying lips.

     "Hm, you say that, but I don't believe you. It's your life, I'm not your parent, so all I can do is offer an ear to you."

     Akira mustered a nod.

     A clink of ceramic on metal told him that Sojiro had put the last clean cup away before closing up for the night. 

     "Make sure you clean up whatever else, and drink that coffee." The usual, stern bite was back in Sojiro's voice.

     Forcing a smile wouldn't be too difficult right now.

     "Of course, I'll lock up after you too." A firm hand found his shoulder before he was left alone in the cafe, the humming noise of the furnace replaced the ringing silence that followed.

     If only it had been as easy as to ramble away his insecurities and confusion. He still had a mission to fulfill, still had to be a leader. Just for a little longer. Repressing whatever he could, whatever thoughts he had, questions he wanted answers to was proving more difficult than he imagined it could be. Those questions haunted every decision he made, in every moment he was conscious. 

     How can he step up and be a leader again to those who relied on him so heavily?

     How can he come to accept Akechi was gone?

     Sojiro had mentioned grief eating him alive. Maybe he wasn't too far from the mark. Maybe it had already consumed him and he was just going through the motions. He was a zombie just going through each day hoping for it all to be over.

     He sipped the coffee in front of him, not letting his eyes stray to his right, to that very empty seat. It was a bitter taste, decaffeinated, he could tell. There was no harm throwing it out. The implications of his earlier conversation echoed in his head. Calmly he picked out what parts he was going to use to keep himself going, and which parts triangulated his weaknesses. Things he was going to fix. 

     It proved two things to him, he decided as he locked up the cafe for the second time that night. The first was that he needed to try harder to act like everything was fine. He was not going to be the weak link that broke the Phantom Thieves. None of his team mate- his friends, deserved that. 

     The second was that he needed answers. He wouldn't be a hindrance anymore, to anyone. Everyone around him had been through enough, he didn't need to burden them with his own feelings about a person who essentially betrayed them. A person who put a bullet in his head, or attempted to. A person who was responsible for a lot of pain and suffering they were going through. There was no way he would talk to any of them about Akechi. He wouldn’t be the one who reminded them of those they lost. He needed to be strong, enduring, and firm.

     Strong, enduring and firm. Like Joker. Like Akechi.  Even if he needed to do things on his own. 

     Quietly, he slipped out his phone and stared at the Meta-Nav App icon.

     Before, he had checked to see if Akechi had a Palace, but never found anything when he tried. He wouldn't even know where to start if he did have a Palace but even entering his names showed no results. He decided to check it now, again, just to confirm that there was nothing he could do from the Metaverse side. No results. Disappointment broke his voice as he mumbled the findings under his breath. Of course there was nothing, Akechi was dead.

     It was still a week until the election results. He didn't have to wait until the election was over to start his own investigation. For his own peace of mind. He had enough connections now, with the confidants he had helped for several months now... maybe it was time to cash in some favors. If he found out something, anything, maybe he could focus on the here and now. Maybe he would finally be able to step back up into the leadership role that was desperately needed of him now.

_Worse than that warped desires y’all are always talking about._

     Grief could warp desires too, right? He had already seen it with Futaba. He wasn’t going to let that happen. Answers were what he needed right now. And he knew where he could find them. And how he could find them.

     In a moment of clarity, he found Ohya’s email and sent a simple request before headed to the bath-house to wash the work off of his body.

**OUTGOING MAIL-**

_[21:46]_ I have a favor to ask. Can you find out what Akechi Goro’s address is?

 

**INCOMING MAIL- OHYA ICHIKO**

_[22:03]_ Oh? The rumor is that he is missing. You have any information on that?

     

     Her response was quicker than he thought. It awaited him after he dried himself off. It was also incredibly predictable. Of course she wanted to exchange information. Missing, huh? He thought he had heard that rumor whispered when he went out. If only it had been that.

 

 **OUTGOING MAIL-**  

 _[22:05]_ I may. Depending on if your information on his address pans out.

 

     As Akira ascended to the drafty attic, his phone buzzed again. 

  

 **INCOMING MAIL- OHYA ICHIKO**  

 _[22:17]_ Stingy, I’ll see what I can do. Playing detective while looking for a detective could be fun though! Either way, you’ll owe me.

 

     A small smile played at his lips as he laid down and covered himself. Ohya's information was always good and she was always fast with his few requests he threw at her.

     The thought alone was enough to tempt his eyes with sleep they were lacking. Maybe soon he’d have something tangible to hold fast to, some sort of answers for any of the many questions that bombarded him day after day. Maybe some of those answers would fill the emptiness that began to mar his heart.

     The possibility alone lulled him into a dreamless sleep. 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, thank you for the overwhelming support of this fan fiction, just from the first chapter.
> 
> I decided to post this earlier than I expected, I finished the chapter and am pretty satisfied with it. So have an early birthday present on me.
> 
> I want to thank both menthechocolat and eyrdamun for both betaing and listening to my constant talking about plot ideas. My wife as well, thanks for putting up with me.

     He woke up to his phone buzzing by his ear. Quietly, he rolled over and grabbed it, his eyes barely open. He had managed to sleep but not very well. It was a groggy start to the morning, but the messages on his phone were enough to pull him out of whatever lucid state he was in upon waking.

 

I **NCOMING MAIL- OHYA ICHIKO**

 

 _[08:06]_   You made me work overtime and I had to pull a lot of favors, buy me a drink the next time you see me.

 

     He could practically hear Lala Escargot lecturing her about guilting a minor into buying her a drink but he knew Ohya well enough to know she was kidding. It wasn't a common occurrence that he asked her for favors, especially ones that were personal like this. He was surprised it came so quickly but he wasn't going to raise suspicion of it. He had an address and a name he didn't recognize.

     His phone buzzed as the second message came through with and address and a name.

     A fake, of course. If anything, Akechi would have probably adopted an alias as to avoid raising suspicion of his whereabouts.  This just proved Ohya was a pretty powerful woman with deep connections to all kinds of things, and he was grateful for it. He made a mental reminder never to get on her bad side.

     This was the best news he had heard in a very long time. In his hands held the key to everything, he was sure. His heart was hammering away at his ribcage as he got out of bed and started getting dressed, he hardly noticed little footsteps echoing off the stairs.

     Morgana was shivering when he finally finished walking up the stairs and plopped down in front of the heater with a loud sigh that made Akira jump and demanded his attention. 

     “Good morning, Morgana.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm his nerves.

     Morgana flicked his tail in response, like he was defeated. He was tired, obviously Futaba had kept him up, probably roughing up his fur, given the state of it. 

     "Akira..." He whined in a low, grumbling voice. "Why does she torture me so much?"

     Akira laughed at the thought of grabby hands, running through Morgana's fur backwards. Or dangling a piece of sashimi just out of his reach. Or trying to make him leap up in the air with a laser pointer. Futaba loved playing with Morgana, and he had a suspicion Morgana didn’t mind as much as he pretended to. They had all seen the state of Futaba’s heart just a couple months ago.

     Her Palace built from stones of loss and sadness. It was really inspiring to see her grow so much.

     "You don't have to sleep over there you know."

     "I just hate being in here all the time. It's dusty, you know. You'd think by now you'd clean more, or have Kawakami-sensei do it."

     “I’m not made of money." He shrugged and finished getting ready, grabbing a lock pick from his desk and shoving it in his jean pocket before Morgana could notice. Luckily, he didn't, just continued to grumble about inhumane torture at the hands of Futaba.

     “Eh? Are you going out this early?.”

     He nodded firmly.

      “I’m really tired, Akira! She’s a monster.” 

     “You don’t have to come with me.” His tone was steady, nonchalant. 

     Morgana mulled over the offer and let out a heavy sigh.

     “Fine, fine, come back soon.” 

     Akira's heart fluttered in his throat, hardly keeping the small smile forming on his face at bay. He wouldn't get any weird questions. Good.

     “I’m sure you’ll be counting the moments until l return.”

     “S-shut up! Bring home some sashimi.”

     “Yes, yes. Sleep well.” He grabbed his empty bag and almost tripped downstairs to make his escape. 

     As he pulled his hood over his unruly hair, his eyes meeting Sojiro's. His momentum slowed significantly. He noted the plate of curry and cup of coffee sitting there, waiting for him. It was a silent understanding, a truce they subconsciously made. It waited there for him every morning. Ever since this routine started, it helped ease some of his uncertainty of living in Tokyo. 

     Now things felt different though. The atmosphere down here was stifling to him. The dusking days turning to restless nights with the ringing of door chimes as he entered the threshold of Leblanc was nothing more than a reminder he was bound here. Bound here with no real power to do much of anything in the real world but keep his nose clean and behave. 

     They didn't say anything as Akira went to his usual chair, avoiding looking at the other one just past it, and sat down with a soft ‘good morning’ leaving his lips.

     Once he found comfort here, with friends, with allies, and with his newfound family. Once he looked forward to coming home and those chiming bells that rang in his ears echoed possibilities of conversations he eagerly sought out. Going home meant the chance that Akechi would be not-so-subtly waiting for him. Going home was something he looked forward to, just the chance to see him, to talk to him was enough to make his heart race. 

     But now Leblanc served as a reminder that would never happen again. Going out meant coming back to nothing once again. But going out today was going to be different.

     He ate in silence. 

     There were moments, he could tell, that Sojiro wanted to talk but the opportunity never came, or wasn't seized. Sojiro busied himself with opening tasks, and Akira was grateful that he didn't have to revisit their conversation.  By the time the cafe was opening, he had only eaten half his portion, his nerves not allowing him to stomach anymore.

     "Put it in the fridge, don't waste food." Sojiro chimed from the door as he unlocked it.

     "Mmmhmm." Akira nodded and put the food away. The lock pick in his pocket felt like a heavy piece of lead he couldn't ignore. The weight of anticipation in his chest, even more so. After he cleaned the plate and brushed his teeth quickly, he was off to the station, a sharp ring signaling that he was loose in the world now. His heart hammered as he looked up the address and started following the navigation towards his destination. Adrenaline was rushing in his veins as he got on the train towards Shibuya. 

     The stations were crowded this time in the morning, the school and work commute made Akira thankful he only went to Shinjuku during the night time. He had heard nightmarish tales of what Shinjuku station looked like during the morning. He took the time to check his phone again to see if he had any requests for others to meet up with him. Nothing. Not even Mishima to check up on him. No panic about how the Phantom Thieves were being spoken of at a decreasing rate, no questions about what their next plan of attack was. Everything seemed to be going well. 

     Maybe even a little too well, but he wasn't going to think negatively about this. Today he was going to get answers. Though he knew, deep down, nothing he found would be as good as the living, breathing Akechi sitting in his apartment waiting for him. But there was no use wishing for the impossible. This would do, he was convinced. The spring in his step was unrivaled to any pace he held in the Metaverse. He felt light, like he could float away to some world beyond. He filled his mind with possibilities, possibilities that could lead him to answers he desperately sought. He wondered what type of apartment he had, given that he was a celebrity. Knowing what he knew of Akechi, he probably had some small, modest space that was clean and tidy. Minimalistic? Was that what the style was called? 

     His heart was still pounding uncomfortably in his chest, his mind going numb from the buzzing of quiet chatter from the occupants of the train around him. It was crowded, bodies pressing up against him, but he ignored them for the few stops until Shibuya. Luckily his time in Tokyo had gotten him pretty used to public transit. It was almost second nature to him now. Stepping out onto the platform, Akira pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose and rubbed his wrist out of habit, surprised that red gloves didn’t adorn them.

     Looking around for his transfer, the world went gray, a single sign overhead radiated a soft glowing gold color. His third eye ability honing in on what he was seeking. He didn’t actually intend to use it. 

     Walking along the bustle of morning commuters he found his transfer. Four stops away was where his destination awaited him. His racing heart beat stilled. Three stops away he would find something, anything. Two stops away he would reclaim his focus. One stop away was the very thing he was seeking. 

     His urge to make himself smaller was giving him chills of excitement. To hide away from everyone and everything around him as he sought his goal. When he exited the train, stood to the side and let people pass, highly alert to his surroundings. This was a Palace he was infiltrating. This was Joker's time. A sheepish grin spread across his face.

     He was securing a route to the Treasure after all.

     His blood was racing in his ears, a low strumming noise that forced his attention on what was before him. This was not the Metaverse, this was just Tokyo, and yet… it was exhilarating. 

     Thrilling.

     Quickly, he made his way out of the station, taking three flights of stairs two steps at a time. Where it opened was Opera City, from the looks of it. Which meant that there were a few government buildings near by as well. It seemed pretty fitting for Akechi. It looked  to be a pretty active little neighborhood. Busses passed him as he walked, the bounce in his pace slowed not a second. Akira’s hand gripped the pick tightly, in his other, his phone giving him directions to Akechi’s apartment.

     It had been a week and a half since the fight in the engine room. There was no need to assume that any of Akechi’s things would have been thrown out due to lapsed rent. That was the worst case scenario that he was mentally preparing himself for. But his renewed optimism overshadowed his doubts. This feeling that made him grin like an idiot was one that he had missed, dreadfully. He was beginning to feel a bit more like himself now.

     He was still ten minutes walk away. Mindlessly, he followed the directions as his phone lead him down more a residential area, passed a pachinko parlor that still smelled of smoke despite it being closed. There were a few little neighborhood stores he noted out of the corner of his eye. A tailor shop that still had it’s lights off and a tiny bakery that assaulted his senses with a warm, buttery scent. What if Akechi had his breakfast here every morning? The thought made him shudder instantly, as though the cold temperature was beginning to bite through his clothes. Maybe he would grab something from them after he succeeded. Something for him to eat on once he got back to Leblanc to sort through whatever he found. What if he hit the jackpot and found a journal or pictures, or the briefcase Akechi always carried. At this point, anything was enough to excite him.

     Turning the corner down a narrow alley way, the navigation put him two minutes away. He couldn’t even hear the automated voice over his own breathing that came out in huffs of fog. 

     Gray eyes glanced at his phone and up at a building in the back corner of a dead end street. He took a deep breath, allowing himself to breathe out slowly and calmly walked to the point where his app told him he had arrived. 

     Apartment 568.

     Akira chuckled to himself about the numbers and slid his phone into his free pocket. He pushed his glasses up, anticipation numbing his brain, now the only thing that mattered was breaking in, quietly. Hopefully everyone would be at work and he wouldn’t draw any kind of suspicion. It’d be hard to explain to the police why, first, he was breaking into a missing celebrity’s apartment and, two, why he was doing so while on probation. 

     He’d burn that bridge when he got to it. 

     Walking up the stairs, he heard a creak under every step. He noticed there was no elevator and it looked like the seventh floor was the highest point. Luckily, his destination was on the fifth. 

     The building was not well maintained, of all the complexes in the area he had been walking, he noticed this one was the most stained. The exterior needed upkeep to it’s crumbling corners and the foundation almost looked like it was broken. 

     A rickety, rusted bike rack with three bikes locked to it was the only thing really adorning the building. Two of the bikes were straight and upright, while the other had fallen slump against its constraints, the tires digging into the graveled concrete. It hadn’t been ridden in a while… or touched for that matter.

     He had seen this bike before, a few times, he was sure. It was probably just his mind playing tricks on him, knowing that Akechi lived here, of course he’d assume that was his bike. There were probably thousands of bikes like this all over, a common model, but for some reason, he knew it was the detective’s.

     But-

     This was not somewhere he thought Akechi would live. But there had to be a reason. Maybe the outside was rough but repairs were in order and hadn’t started yet? Akira was sure the inside was sleek and compact, something a bit more stylish. When he imagined Akechi living on his own, he saw a modest space. Something warm and simple with little flairs of style. Inviting and homely.

     It just seemed to be Akechi’s style.

     There was no way someone who groomed himself so much would live in a place like this if the inside was as rough as the outside.

     Akira took a deep breath as he entered the building, preparing himself to be in awe.

     The flood of relief he expected did not come.

     The interior did not improve. Walls were discolored and smelled strongly of smoke from years of occupants. Dirt was tucked away in the corners of the floor landings and the handrails were splintering.

     It was surprising. All the metal accents in the building were tarnished from lacking upkeep. Questionable smudges had worn their way into the floors and the walls, aiding in the overall grimy feeling that was sending a chill down his spine.

     The more flights he walked up, the more it became apparent that his previous conjectures were wrong.

     “And I thought the attic was dirty…” He mumbled to himself as he continued up passed the third floor. He heard distant voices, talking loudly, laughing. Or yelling. It was enough to make him instantly feel unwelcome. The atmosphere was nauseating and the air, stale as he inhaled a lung full of it. Akira was thankful he didn’t eat all of the curry. 

     Another yell made him turn his head as he reached the fifth floor. Crying? A child perhaps? Shrill and piercing, it rang in his ears as an adult, a woman, started fussing loudly. So much for everyone being gone. His gaze skimmed from door to door as he traveled down the hallway quietly. 562, 564, 566, 568.

     All thoughts of before, every hypothesis, burned to ashes in his mind the moment he stepped inside the building. Now he was at the threshold of some unknown place… some place he was sure to find solace. Some place he knew would tell him what he sought.

     He stopped short of the dark door that now stood between him and answers. Beside the door hung a faded name plate that read Kakeru Gao. He slid his phone out and looked at the name Ohya had given him. It was a match.

     It sounded like something from a Sentai show.

     Maybe he’d find the answer to that as well.

     Another deep breath and another for good measure. The door before him was also incredibly old looking, the paint peeling in areas to show several other layers of colors underneath. Even the handle looked tacky and outdated. This was really not what he was imagining at all.

     But there was no use staring dumbly at a door, wondering why Akechi lived in a place like this. The door wasn’t going to quench the curiosity that bubbled in his stomach.

     Tentatively, he reached out, grabbing the knob and giving it a twist. It was locked. Good. Hopefully that meant no one had already been in it. Worry knotted his eyebrows as he looked around to his left and right and he dropped quickly to his knees to pull out the lock pick, finally. The pick felt clumsy in his hands, sweat making his grip on the tool difficult. Maybe it was due to him actually committing a crime while in the real world that had him flustered, but when a soft ‘clink’ met his ears and he twisted the knob, his fears flew far away from him. 

     He quickly pocketed the pick and walked inside, closing the door behind him and locking it back up. 

     The apartment was dark, not facing the morning sun. The temperature difference between the room and the outside air was not substantial. In fact, the first thing Akira noticed was how cold it was. He slipped off his shoes, quietly, as if he would be disturbing someone by making too much noise. A pair of house slippers caught his eye and he put them on to minimize the sound his feet made.

     Like if he wasn’t silent, he would alert some unknown Palace ruler to his location. 

     But this wasn’t the Metaverse, and the only thing he’d be fighting here would be, well… no one.

     He couldn’t help the smile that crept on his face, excitement now short-circuiting his usual calm demeanor. He was going to find everything that made Akechi the person he was. He was going to seize that treasure and relinquish it to no one. No one else deserved it. Not even him, really. But he was a thief, and that’s what he was going to take it all. He needed this.

     He flipped on the light switch, fingers trembling from something other than the cold. A filtered overhead light flickered on and he took his first true look at the Treasure. 

     The room before him was small, about as small as he expected. There was nothing adorning the walls except cracks in the plaster and a tiny window. The flickering light overhead highlighted just a small wooden table in the center of the room and an outdated television set tucked away on a basic looking bookshelf that actually contained just a handful of books. In the far corner opposite it was a worn, rolled up futon. The other side of the room opened up to a kitchen, if it could be called that, that housed only a microwave, a sink and two isolated cabinets, their doors were both off center, like a piece of hardware was missing from both.

     Beyond that was a door, which he was sure lead to a bathroom.

     Akira stared from one corner of the room to the other and back. His shoulders tensed, his jaw clenched as he pushed down the feeling of dread that was creeping up his spine. Akechi lived here?

     He was a local celebrity. He had to make some sort of money… why on earth would he decide to live in a dingy place like this? Compared to his attic space, his whole apartment was slightly smaller and even less furbished than when he first began living in Leblanc. And a lot less cluttered with odds and ends. 

     Somehow, after a few minutes of digesting what he was seeing, he began to look around. Not that there was much to look at. The living area, that he assumed doubled as Akechi’s sleeping area, provided no other information than the standard issued table, bookcase and futon that were housed there. Nothing was under the table top either, no secret journal screwed into the frame. 

     The television still worked and actually hid a tiny space heater behind the bookcase. Akira was tempted to take both with him, but due to how bulky the TV was, he doubted he’d be able to without raising suspicion. Maybe he could dismantle it to see if anything was hidden inside.

     Perhaps his lock pick could get more use. Sitting down in front of the bookcase, his slowly began pulling out what seemed like just textbooks. There was no school affiliation with them, no stamp saying where they were purchased from. There were also no notebook coupled with them. Nothing inside held any of his writings or notes, just dog-eared corners of pages. Hardly what he was expecting to find. He didn’t discover any detective novels, no critical law essay books, no journals of any sort.

     Disappointment sank deeply in his chest.

     He shifted his attention to the kitchen and the cabinets and got up to investigate him. The trash area was emptied, a clean liner placed in the recyclables. A lone piece of mail laid squared to the corner of the microwave. Akira picked it up, looking it over. Sadly it was just an advertisement for a maid cafe in Akihabara. It didn’t even look like it came from the mail office, just something Akechi had picked up and put there. He quickly stashed it in his bag. Maybe he’d go there sometime, if it was important enough to keep in such a bare apartment, it must have been someplace special.

     Maybe.

     The first glimpse of doubt began cracking away at the confident front he had been touting since last night. Joker’s figurative mask peeling away as he stood, alone in Akechi’s apartment, facing reality of this enigma he thought he was going to understand.

     He wasn’t done yet, though.

     He made quick work of the top cabinet that provided him only a singular set of cheap dishes, standard issued. Probably from a 100 yen shop. The lump in his throat returned as he stooped down to check the bottom cabinet. Clothes. Five sets to be exact, all neatly folded and wrinkle free. 

     He took everything he found and put it into his open bag. 

     The world around him grew dark as he focused around the open space again. Nothing was catching his eye. Everything was ordinary. Nothing to hide. No glimmer of gold peaking from any corner of the room.

     As bleak color returned, he opened the last door to the bathroom. 

     There was one towel crumpled into an otherwise empty clothes hamper. Two hangers rested on the shower rail of a small sized tub that occupied half of the cramped room. Another towel folded pristinely on top of the toilet. A small medicine cabinet was placed directly over the sink that just held basic products. Finally something. 

     Inside the medicine cabinet was next to nothing; floss, an extra toothpaste, a spare bottle of shampoo and conditioner and soap.

     The hollow feeling he had been experiencing over the last couple of weeks returned, intensifying that nausea he had been feeling earlier. Nothing felt right. 

     He turned on his heel to the kitchen and began examining again, maybe he missed something. 

     There had to be _something._  

     With a quiet rage he pulled open every area he could, looked through the nook of the apartment in frustration, letting out an aggravated growl as he slammed one of the cabinet doors closed so hard that it fell to the ground with a loud clank. It was in that moment that he realized exactly what he was doing.

     He broke into a dead person’s apartment, a real apartment, to steal anything he could find. And he found nothing but basic living essentials and barely those. A fruitless endeavor. All he possessed was a bag of clothes and a flyer.

     The beacon of hope he had pictured this place to be had now crumbled into dust at his feet. There was nothing of importance in this place. Except the fact that it once held Akechi. And the most important thing that could have ever existed in this dreary place would never be here again.

     He was an idiot for thinking otherwise.

     Akira closed his eyes, taking a staggered breath as he listened for anyone coming his way after the cabinet door clattered to the ground. Nothing, thankfully. But there was nothing to be gained by staying here. He came to be a thief and a thief he was going to be. He headed back into the bathroom and collected the spare toiletries and toothbrush that laid there, abandoned. He hastily shoved them in his bag and went back to the TV.

     Casting his third eye on it, he confirmed there was nothing worth taking inside. Another stab of disappointment carved away at his chest. He had been so certain he would find out something, anything. 

     Akira sat down beside the old television set and stared blankly at the rolled up futon that was beginning to acquire a thin layer of dust. Reaching out he pulled the table away from it and against the wall and crawled over to the bed, rolling it out. 

     Akechi slept here, in this apartment for who knows how long. Everything personal must have been stowed away in the briefcase that was missing. To contain his entire life in something that size was… depressing.

     Akechi had been living alone ever since he could, did he spend his whole time alone in a place like this? 

     From the futon he was now laying in, he looked up at the ceiling. There were stains from what looked like water damage spidering out in ripples. The sun had finally began to peek into the tiny window across from him. This was what he saw every morning. The thought wasn’t a comforting one.

     This was so lonely. 

     The light of the warm sun filtering in blurred through the tears pooling in his eyes. 

     Everything felt so meaningless. How could he have fixed it? How could he have saved him? He found the answers he was desperately clinging to could not be found here. They could only be answered by Akechi himself. In the end he learned nothing about him and it bothered him so much. It was frustrating.

     But he didn’t know why. For now all he knew is that laying down was what he needed to do, his body tired from the rush of excitement and the traveling that normally he would have been able to handle. Right now he really felt like he infiltrated a real Palace. His body was pulsating from exertion he didn’t use.  

     Akira didn’t know how long he laid on the uncomfortable floor, or even how he found the strength to get up and take his bag and leave, but his feet led him far away. He wandered back to the station, solemnly. The bag on his back was zipped and secure with everything he could fit in it placed carefully inside. He never wanted to see that apartment again. 

     Idly he took out his phone, struggling for a reason to occupy his mind from revelations of completely nothingness. He had a few text messages from his friends, talking amongst themselves about how people weren’t reacting to the Calling Card like they expected. He knew what they were like when they were panicking, and this was one of those times. The reactions of the public was odd but honestly, none of that could be changed right now.

     He told them that.

     They were relieved to have him in charge and quell their insecurities. The surge of anger that ripped through his veins in Akechi’s apartment returned. None of his insecurities could be done away like that, with a simple line of logic. His grip on his phone tightened, forcing himself to calm down. They had nothing to do with this.

     Shido’s confession meant everything to him, his punishment even more so. With the closing of that case, it meant he could look to the future where he could just be himself. He was still going home soon, a few months, back to the country with little tokens to commemorate his time in Tokyo. Just a little while longer until he never had to do this again. After Shido confessed and his vow kept, he could retire as a Phantom Thief. For just a little while longer he could pretend to be a leader and let his teammates hear what they wanted to hear. He’d be their rock even if he was crumbling under the weight of their expectations and the pain of loss he didn’t even begin to come to terms with.

     He could endure it for a little while longer, even if it was lonely to do so. 

     Akechi was lonely too… probably.

     His mind churned in circles as he headed back to Leblanc, racing around the thought of how his friends would act to him if he weren’t the leader anymore, even for the last few remaining months of his time in Shibuya. Really, Makoto would be an ideal leader. She was strong and analytical. She took risks inside the Metaverse with secure, calculated reasoning and outside by tampering with her sister’s computer to gain valuable information. She was always thinking of the bigger picture and always thinking of the group. He knew this was true, she had always been ideal for the real leader of the Phantom Thieves, even way back when they had first discovered her ability to use a Persona. But, that didn’t stop him from wanting to be the leader. He was nominated to do it for his abilities alone, he had grown used to it, it was comforting to be needed like that. 

     Now faced with the possible end of being a Phantom Thief and his growing insecurities as leader, he wondered if his friends would find him appealing anymore if he retired his position. He was just a boy from the countryside with a thick accent and fake glasses. He was really nobody special. Everyone who was his friend started off with some sort of opposition to him, after all. Well… except one.

     Even though their bonds were strong, they could still leave him. They could forget about him once he had gone home. That’s what the voice in the back of his head was telling him, that he could end up alone again. He could end up in a shabby apartment with nothing but gifts and fake weapons to remember any of this by, waking up to a stained ceiling and an outdated television set. 

     He shook his head, trying to physically clear the thoughts. His friends would want him around even after the Phantom Thieves ended. They would want him around even if he wasn’t a strong leader, they were a team after all. They were friends.

     They would create memories to last beyond their times in the Metaverse.

     Stepping out into Shibuya to make his way to his transfer, he stopped short of putting his Suica card on the gate reader.

     His bag was filled with mundane items, objects that helped piece together a mental image of a ghost he couldn’t let go of. Nothing about these things told of his accomplishments, his goals, his power. Nothing.

     But weapons he used… in the Metaverse. His mind was reeling. A pang of guilt washed over him like rain, he had sold both the spare ray-gun and the light sword Akechi had been fighting with originally in the Metaverse after he replaced them with better weapons. Sold them out of spite. He was angry. It wasn’t too long ago, he needed the cash for medicine, at least that’s what he told himself back then. Now he was questioning it.  He had completely forgotten about it until now. 

     He was going to get them back. 

     He didn’t have much spare change on him but he figured he could ask, he could barter one of his own weapons or something. 

     He turned on his heel towards Central Street, pushing past the large Shibuya intersection where he first saw time stand still, when he became part of the occupants of Shibuya, became inmates with them. 

     Navigating the crowd, he fell in line with the organized chaotic flow of bodies moving around to their normal daily lives, and past the familiar areas he had been to over the last eight months. Akira took sharp turn to the left along a back alley, walking at a pace much quicker than his usual despite his body crying in protest. The blue flood light of the Velvet Room's door was one that he got in practice of ignoring, even as Caroline casted a glare his direction. He glanced over her completely and checked his watch. It was 11:00 and Untouchables' green neon sign faintly glowed in the sun. He never came here this early but he didn't want to leave it to chance that he wouldn't get occupied during the evening.

     Mustering up his dauntless courage and raising his hopes higher than he cared to admit, he walked inside the airsoft shop. There was no one inside, except Iwai behind the counter as he usually was. Their eyes met briefly before Iwai turned his attention back to a gun part he was messing with.

     "You're here early. Shouldn't you be sleepin' or something?”

     He wished he could be sleeping right now, or at least sleeping better.

     "Good morning to you too.” He murmured back, closing the door behind him and scanning the shelves of airsoft guns around him.

     Untouchables was vastly different than Leblanc, a place that he was once intimidated by had grown very comfortable to him. In all actuality it probably shouldn’t be a place he made himself familiar with, especially with the amount of eyebrow raising activity he had done with Iwai. But he didn’t regret aiding the man when he could, helping him acknowledge his own son was something he wished his father had strived to do since his hearing. He was actually really jealous of Kaoru for the amount of effort his adopted father put in to their relationship.

     In that way, Untouchables was a pretty perfect name to describe the Munehisa family.

     Approaching the counter, Akira shifted the bag on his shoulder and gained Iwai’s attention once more.

     “You doing okay? You don’t look like you’ve been sleepin’.” Ah, concern again. 

     “I’m fine, I just have a favor to ask you.” 

     “Shoot, as long as it’s not anything weird.” The ex-armsdealer leaned back in his chair, a pique in his interest evident in the raise of his eyebrow.

     “It’s not…” He started before taking a deep breath and calming himself before continuing. “weird… it’s just something I sold to you a while ago, I need it back. I have some cash, or I could trade you something for i-“ The words spilled out before being cut off by Iwai raising a hand to motion for him to stop.

     “Breathe, kid. You want something back? I sold most the good stuff you give me, but I may still have it in the back. What was it?”

     Here went everything.

     “It was a model raygun, and a light-sword.” Hope lingered at the tip of his tongue, dry and coarse against his teeth as he spoke.

     Iwai was a hard man to read, one of the hardest confidants for him to gain. As such, the look on his face was not one that he could understand easily until a frown reached his lips and his head shook.

     No.

     “I sold them, I think a few days after you sold them to me. Some regular came in and was pretty ecstatic about them. It was a pretty easy sell.”

     For the second time that day, time seemed to hold still and disappointment took root in his chest, crushing the remaining optimism that attempted to bloom in his heart.

     “You… sold them?” Was all he could muster, parroting back the only part of that conversation he actually heard.

     Iwai leaned forward, mulling him over for a moment before nodding. 

     “I do run a business, you know.” Iwai shrugged in response. 

     “I need them.” He whispered, rushed and urgent. The bag on his shoulder dug into him, the weight of clothes and regret enough to crush his bones. Emptiness itched under his skin like some parasite had dug into the cracks that were forming in his composure. Like a parasite had burrowed into a deep place in his soul where a monstrous sea of waves crashed into that foundation of confidence that had already begun to crumble and if he scratched at it, he would dissolve into a swirl of foam.  He couldn’t scratch… and it hurt. 

     It hurt.

     It was fate playing with him again. It would figure that he would bet it all and turn up with nothing.

     “I could see about getting them back.”

     The itch subsided. His fingers unclenched from the grip that possessed his right hand. Hope glimmered at the corners of his vision. The waves calmed.

     Iwai had stood up, Akira didn’t recall when, his arms crossed and his stance firm. Another expression of his he couldn’t decipher. Calm eyes evaluated him before a nod reassured Akira of the words he didn’t realize saved him from complete despair that very moment. Despair of losing permanent reminders of everything good Akechi ever did for them, for him. 

     He was an idiot for selling them in the first place. But here was a promise of hope, fate must have been toying with him again. But he grasped onto it and held it close, any chance was a risk worth taking.

     “You.. mean that?”

     “Yeah, he’s a regular. Obviously it's got you worked up too. What's going on with you? I know you’re still going around changing hearts and some bad shit happened but I’ve never seen you this eager before.”

     Eager? The expression he was putting on right now was eager? It didn't feel that way, it felt desperate and weak, his heart hammering away with sure speed and slowing down to a complete stop at the same time. He was clinging onto these items like they were his lifeline. Like they were going to save him from some unknowing force that threatened to crush him. He remembered their outlines, the grooves that felt clumsy in his right hand, the heft was nothing more than unevenly weighted plastic and rivets of cheap metal molded to form symbols of rebellion. 

     He rolled over Iwai's words, calculating his mistakes to reformulate an angle he could play. Eager was something he could work with, something he could play off as he took a step back from the counter and looked Iwai in the eye. He rolled his shoulder and dragged his foot behind him, tapping the tip of his shoe into the discolored tile beneath him with thought. His emotions were clouding his judgment, a bite of frustration clamping down on his stomach before he adorned the mask that would help him salvage the situation.

     "I really need them back. They are vital to our mission, and I was an idiot for selling them. My use for them wasn't finished and I miscalculated. You'll be able to get them back, won't you?" Joker's voice was smooth as silk and compliant. A soft smirk cracked its way through the panicked expression that Akira was presenting moments ago. 

     "If anyone could do it, it'd be you." He added, playing up the appeal to Iwai's pride, his foot returning to stable ground, his stance firm. It wasn't a threat, it was a negotiation but there was no gun in his hand. Not yet, but hopefully soon Crow's weapons, even just one, would be.

     Iwai scratched his chin in thought and let out a sigh. "You better make it worth my time." There was an amused chuckle that escaped him and Joker gave a solid nod to him, shifting the Treasure on his back once more. 

     "Have I ever been known to waste it?"

     Another chuckle turned into a throaty laugh and Iwai sat down once more. 

     "I'll ask, because you've helped me out with Kaoru so much. It'll be a few days so don't bother me again about it. I'll message you and we will talk about payment."

     "Of course." Akira nodded and flashed his confidant a smile before quietly said goodbye, stepping out into the hazy cold day. Payment meant he would have to spend a few days in Mementos to scrounge up the money. Whatever it was, he would pay the price and he would be ready. Mishima would be his best bet for picking up more money, maybe the Phan-site had some new requests he was saving reveal in a lavish text novel he seemed so fond of.

     Talk of Shido reached his ears as he walked straight past the Velvet Room and back onto the Main Street. Calling cards and Phantom Thieves and Shido's unquestionable win of the election was all anyone could ever talk about anymore. No talk of gossip, no talk of celebrities, no talk of Akechi. 

     That was fine, no one deserved to talk about him. All they would say would be fowl words and fickle emotions that did nothing but blemish his name. And he wouldn't be able to handle it right now. It was almost as if his popularity faded from existence. The train ride home was a collection of quiet whispers about the criminal activity of the Phantom Thieves and Shido's rightful place as Prime Minister of Japan.

     He would make sure they ate their words, for their own sake, for Akechi's sake.

     Akira gripped his phone tightly, watching the screen just in case Iwai already contacted his client. Really, if Iwai couldn't convince him, maybe he could get the name of the guy out of him and he could talk to him, himself. Maybe this client had some deep dark secret he could exploit, or he had enough of a distortion, perhaps, to be in Mementos. He could change his heart and convince him to hand over the items in the real world after planting the thought in Mementos.

     That was a great idea.

     His conscious tugged at him, nagging him that he should be ashamed that he even had the thought of using his power for his own gain. But he was too tired to dwell on the thought much more. It was an idea, one he didn’t think he’d have to use. It’d benefit both of them, if this guy was actually some kind of creep he’d find in Mementos. It was a huge if but it was a nice thought.

     As he got off the train from Shibuya and started walking home he quickly shot Mishima a message asking for requests. This was actually the first time he sought out his classmate for Phantom Thieves work, but he knew he could endure the other boy’s incessant texting for at least a little bit. Much better than talking to him over the phone or in person, anyhow. It was still school time so he doubted he’d get a message right away. That was fine. He owed Morgana sashimi anyway.

     After stopping by the store, he went immediately back to Leblanc. The chiming bells alerting Sojiro that the prisoner had returned back to the cell. He exchanged simple, meaningless words and headed up stairs to unpack his bag. Akira hadn’t really thought that far ahead, unpacking clothing that obviously belonged to someone other than him. Peeking into his room, he noticed Morgana was soundly asleep. Another thing that went right amongst the sea of disappointment he had already been through. Quickly he unloaded the clothing into the box that contained his other clothes. The toiletries he stowed in there as well. The flyer was the very last thing… he put it on the shelf with all of his other physical tokens of his friends. This was the only thing Akechi had given him. He was going to display it proudly.

     He shifted around some items on the display shelf to show it off, and the noise obviously had woken Morgana, who let out a loud yawn and stretched.

     “You’re back!” He said with enthusiasm. Akira turned his head towards him and nodded, still arranging the postcard.

     “I got your sashimi to help you recover from your trauma.” He chuckled and stepped away from the shelf, admiring the card like it was some huge trophy. 

     Morgana sighed happily and stretched. “Akira, you really are special! I’m glad you remembered!”

     He wasn’t special. Akechi was special. He was just a pawn fate toyed with, like a cat tormenting a mouse, battering it to death and never actually realizing it killed its toy.

     “Of course I remembered, I wouldn’t have heard the end of it if I forgot.” Akira sat down on his bed, eyeing the postcard before gazing over at the box of contained secrets. He opened the fresh sashimi he had gotten from the local store and watched Morgana chow down before checking his phone. Still nothing. 

     “What did you do today?” Morgana asked between bites of fish.

     “Oh you know, infiltrated a Palace without you guys.” He joked, still staring at his phone, waiting for a message to come through.

     “Yeah right, who’s Palace was it?” The arrogance scoff that Morgana usually uttered was softened by the gluttonous sound of eating.

     “My own! Didn’t you know, I’m a pretty dangerous criminal according to recent polls. My heart needs to be changed.” 

     “Heh, nice try, you can’t have a Palace, Mr. Persona-user.” 

     What started as joking actually struck a chord in him. That’s right, another reason Akechi couldn’t have a Palace… he was a Persona user… that bothered him. For some reason. But he decided to play along with this, let the conversation move forward, to quell his morbid curiosity.

     “But I’m special, Morgana. I don’t think rules apply to me. Anything I can do to stop a dangerous criminal like myself I have to do.” For justice, right?

     Morgana looked up from his lunch and pondered him for a moment.

     “You know… you are special. Don’t make me say it more than once, it's embarrassing. But I think that rule still applies to you, even with your abilities.” The tone turned questioning, unsure.

     “We will never know I guess. But I bet-” Akira mumbled, his eyes still glued to his phone. He couldn’t bring himself to actually say it. Then, like a blessing from the gods, his phone buzzed. He would have never thought to ever call any kind of message from Mishima a blessing but here it was.

     Skimming over as his phone vibrated more in his hands, he absorbed himself in the text. Just a bunch of unnecessary information but it was also thorough, which meant no investigation from his side was required. 

**INCOMING MAIL- Mishima Yuuki**

_[13:32]_ Have to say it is nice that you’re actually relying on me for information for once. You never text me asking for jobs. It’s about time you realize that I’m here for you, leader!

 

     He knew that was coming. He was thankful, he just wished Mishima didn’t have such a big head about it. Or that he had to play along with that ego.

 

**OUTGOING MAIL-**

_[13:35]_ You’re right, I’m forever in your debt. I’ll look into these cases tomorrow with the rest of the group. Thank you.

   

     Morgana had been watching him closely, he could feel his gaze digging into him intensely. 

     “Looks like we’re going to Mementos tomorrow.” He said, dissipating the tension from the earlier conversation. That instantly lightened Morgana’s mood. 

     “I wonder if the door unlocked!” He almost mewled with excitement, but it was subdued by a silent worry that was clear as day. 

     “We can check.” Now that he was sitting down, he really was exhausted. Just a few hours ago he was laying in Akechi’s apartment, in his bed, destroying all traces of hope that had burrowed deep in his aching body. But now, here he was again, hopeful for memories, something solid and tangible. If he couldn’t talk to Akechi, at least he could have pieces to immortalize him by. This was the best he could ask for in this situation, closure was far from his reach but this would do.

     As his eyes began to close, he quickly set an alarm to go off a few hours later. He would try to pick up a shift at Crossroads or something, he needed to thank Ohya in person anyway. Crossroads would also exhaust him enough that he would at least rest well for the night to prepare for Mementos tomorrow. He’d finally be able to see his friends again, it'd been a few days. Maybe after seeing them, he’d have some reassurance that he wasn’t going to lose them. Morgana must have sensed he was tired, he had developed a great habit of that, and let him rest.

     "You are special.” He heard as his eyes closed. “And it will destroy you.”  A whispering voice of a ghost sang him to much needed sleep.

     And he realized, before sleep overtook him, that it wasn't Morgana talking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 is in the works but I also have school so it may be a bit longer for the next chapter to come out.
> 
> Thank you for reading.
> 
> My twitter is @chromiekins.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is chapter 3. I would like to, as always, thank my beta menthechocolat and also eyrdamun. Your support has helped me through this chaos. Please enjoy!

 

 

    The floor beneath him was cold under his bare feet, the chill eating away at the tips of his toes. It was unleveled, sharp corners digging into his thighs and heels as he sat alone. At least he thought he was alone, he reached his hands out to either side of him, to feel around in an attempt to gauge some sort of bearings on his surroundings. His arms didn’t even make it full span before his palm touched a wall. Leaning forward and twisting his body, he did the same to the other sides, again with the same result. 

    Tentatively he brought his hand above his head, pushing up into the air until his fingertips softly brushed up against frigid metal. He strained to listen to something, anything, to help indicate where he was. He heard nothing but the soft pulsing of his quickening heart beat. He tried to speak up but no words came out, nothing but his uneven breathing broke past his lips. This was his world now, huh? This... cell, whatever it was. This small, dark space that held nothing but him.

    A loud clanking broke his train of thought, making him jump, his eyes widen though he could see nothing. Another sound, footsteps? They echoed against the walls around him, drowning out his panicking pulse. It was getting louder? It was hard to tell from the noise bouncing off the walls and assaulting his ears. He covered them, closing his eyes and curling up, his knees to his chest. He didn't know how long he had been alone, perhaps he always had been in this place, it was strange but familiar to him, this noise, this darkness, this feeling of being trapped without anyway to help himself. The covering of his ears did nothing to block out the noise that was getting closer and closer to him. 

    Desperately, he tried to summon a Persona, any Persona, but none came. He concentrated though sweat was dripping down his neck and tiny area he was in was growing hotter from just the frantic exhalation of air that he was unknowingly emitting was dizzying him. He couldn't think straight, he couldn't put together why he was even here, why this all felt familiar. All he knew is that whoever was walking towards him was dangerous, they had to be dangerous. They had to have put him here, why? He didn't do anything wrong, he didn't do anything wrong, he didn't do anything wrong. 

    His hands scratched at his neck, the sweat irritating some sort of acute pain. An injection, he knew that somewhere in the fog in his mind. They drugged him. The itch was unbearable as he gritted his teeth to keep himself from giving his position away. The person who was walking closer to him was going to kill him. They were going to kill him by any means necessary. 

    He didn't do anything wrong.

    All he wanted to do was help people.

    The footsteps stopped suddenly, the noise still steeping into his bloodstream that threatened to spill out of his mouth if he dared open it.

    Then there was quiet. A soft swishing noise as whoever flicked on a light that he could see through his screwed closed eyelids. 

    "You look like shit." The voice said, smooth and agile, with no warmth of friendship confirming what he knew was already true, they were going to kill him.

    He recognized that voice, but he didn't dare open his eyes.

    "Who knew the leader of the Phantom Thieves could be broken down this easily." A hum of arrogance and pride laced a beautiful taunt that normally would have made him jerk in response, but the pain he was beginning to blossom into bruises on his legs and ribs were now rendering him weak.

    Crumbling.

    The figure now blocked out the light that was piercing his closed eyes, providing relief from some of the irritation before continuing to taunt him.

    "Even now, you still can't handle yourself. You really are pathetic." The word was enough to make his skin crawl, like a cold hand had reached out and was squeezing down on his clammy neck, just enough to trap the air in his lungs, to make him itch again. Enough to make him respond out of desperation.

    "I didn't do anything wrong-"

    There was a clash of impact on metal that made him jump and huddle up more, protecting himself from any more attacks to his already aching ribs. His arms moved over his head tightly.

    "Liar." 

    Gray eyes slid open to take observation, only to be met at eye level with dark ones.

    His heart skipped a beat. 

    Akechi was sitting in front of him, back lit and face almost completely obscured by a mask of blood streaming down his face from a wound in his head, or he assumed was a wound. From his matted hair grew a soft cascade of red spider-lilies sprouting from odd angles. He recognized their vibrancy from his studies of flowers. Akechi's gaze was almost obscured from the flowers as they grew, the flowers masquerading the red wetness smudged into his skin. 

    He was dressed normally, no Crow, no Black Mask, no detective outfit, just plain clothes Akira had never seen him in before. His foot resting on the metal bar that Akira hadn't felt before when he was trying to take in his surroundings completely blind by a blanket of dark.

    A chuckle embraced Akira's ears, those vibrations bouncing off of those closed in walls now were welcomed to him, even though his mind was still trying to catch up to the present. It jingled, like a soft bell, pleasant and smooth.

    "You know, _Joker_ ," He said slowly, tantalizingly, distain dripping from the drawn out syllables.

    He couldn't speak, the pressure on his neck not allowing him to explain, to question. He was right there, right in front of him and nothing allowed him to tell him anything. All he could do is watch and prepare himself for the inevitable. 

    "I want you to know that you are responsible for this. This is your fault." His voice softened, not like the Akechi in the ship, no... like the one who came to visit him in Leblanc. It was poised, delicate but not fragile. His gloved hand motioned with little effort to the hole in his head, the flowers blooming from it. Akira tried not to look directly at it, but still keep his sights on the face he missed so much.

    Everything in his mind screamed at him to leave, to get away but, he couldn’t. More importantly, he didn’t want to. All he could do was stare at the slow oozing of blood that leaked down his friend’s face. His stomach churned with nausea. He wanted to fix it, to fix him. To stitch up the wound in his head from where the cognitive version of him shot him. To wipe the blood that was dripping off his eyelashes and chin. He fought his internal urge to flee, knowing full well he couldn’t. Uncurling his limbs from his body, he stretched out, not taking his eyes off of Akechi. If he did, he may just disappear. 

    So for now he would ignore the pain swelling in his joints, the noose of guilt hanging around his neck, the itching beneath his skin. He would ignore the gun that glinted in the light backlighting Akechi. He knew that gun would end up shooting him this time.

    He would endure it for this.

    "You're the one who killed me. If it hadn't been for you, I'd still be alive right now. You think you're so special, well that special thing about you is what will kill you too.” It wasn’t a spiteful comment, from what he could tell. Really that mouth could tell him the most horrifying things and he would thank him for it. Even now, as he accused him of something he knew he caused, deep down, he thanked him for it. Akechi was talking to him. Akechi was going to put him out of his misery.

    That soft curl of a smile surprised him, so did the dropping of the gun with a gentle motion. 

    It was then that he was allowed to breathe. To speak, his tongue finally moving again. His heart swelled with joy, he assumed. He reached out to grab ahold of the bars, to try to squeeze his hand through to try to reach him. Just as he did so, the image in front of him dissolved into a smoldering cloud of smoke his fingertips grazed over falling petals before they too disappeared into the air around him and his world grew cold and dark again.

    A bitter taste lingered at the back of his throat as he coughed on words unspoken, opportunities missed. More opportunities.

    “You say I killed you?” his hoarse voice mumbled, as his consciousness faded into the pitch black cell surrounding him. “Haunt me then.”

    His eyes shot open, a pang of guilt washing him in cold sweat. Nightmares were becoming routine, this dream felt familiar to him, like he had had it before. It had just been a few hours, according to the time on his phone. It was enough time for the winter night to claim the sun. Morgana was curled up on his chest, still soundly asleep. 

    Akira shifted, the pain that he felt so vividly in the dream melted away to reside in the scars on his body from his time under arrest and interrogation. He rubbed his face subconsciously then moved the sleeping cat off of him and beside him. Quietly he moved out of bed and grabbed a towel to freshen himself up downstairs in the bathroom before he got ready to go out for the night. He still had things to do. 

    He avoided looking at himself in the small mirror in the cramped bathroom, the size of the room far more spacious than the one in his dream. This had actually been the first time he remembered it, in so much detail. He didn't think there could be a worse prison than the one he occupied in the Velvet Room, but he was sorely mistaken. That place was far worse, but... he saw Akechi. 

    If he had to pick a reoccurring dream to plague him, it would be that one. 

    Once he finished he went back upstairs to change into fresh clothing, the neat pile of clothes that didn't belong to him, but now did, stood out in stark contrast to the worn box he kept his own clothes in. He ignored them for now and quickly threw on warm clothes. By that time Morgana started to stir, just as he put on shoes.

    "Going out again?" He yawned, probably still not recovered from Futaba's slumber party with him. "I'm going with you."

    Akira just nodded at him and whispered a silent prayer that he had finished unpacking his spoils from the day as Morgana hopped in.

    "Where are we going?"

    "Crossroads." Akira stated before leaving Leblanc, a jingle of bells trailing behind him.

    Crossroads always smelled like smoke. Always. It was the first thing he noticed when he entered the establishment. He always smelled like it coming home too, which made him grateful that he always missed Sojiro's departure since the hours were long. It gave him a chance to wash his clothes after a shift there. 

    But he didn't really come to work. 

    The next thing he always noticed in Crossroads was Ohya's back to him, nursing a highball glass in her hand. It was easier to get information out of her after she had had a few, and after he smooth talked her a bit. Beside him, he felt Morgana shift in his bag. Quietly he swung the bag around and mumbled under his breath. 

    "I may be here a while, wanna walk around?" 

    Morgana's eyes were watering from the smoke. He usually hated coming here but Akira knew what it was like to be cooped up inside for too long.  Without another word, Morgana leapt out of the bag and walked out of the door Akira had opened for him. 

    "I may work a shift, so meet me back in a half an hour and I'll let you know?" He asked and received only a grumble as a response. Of all of his jobs, Crossroads was Morgana's least favorite. There was never really anywhere for him to curl up and observe him working, or try to get him to talk to scary looking people. Morgana seemed to have fun putting Akira on the spot.

    He closed the door to the bar and walked towards the counter, attempting to screw a smile onto his face, even if it wasn't a big one. 

    "Well, look who it is." She giggled, shaking her glass at Lala with enthusiasm. "I was just tellin' Lala-chan than you owed me a drink!" Her words slurred together, which was almost a pretty normal speaking pattern for her. He could easily understand her still so that was a plus.

    He heard a disapproving click of a tongue behind him and turned towards his sometimes boss. "I told you, I'm not letting a minor buy you alcohol." 

    She still didn't refill the journalist's empty glass.

    "Oh, no! He told me he would! I had to pull a lot of favors for him, I almost missed a deadline, y'know." 

    "No you didn't, stop lying."

    Akira shook his head and sat down on the bar stool. "She's right, I was a burden to her, let me buy her a drink." He turned fully towards Lala and raised his eyebrows pointedly. A secret understanding that when he said drink, he meant water. 

    "There, see! A sensible boy, make it a double!" She giggled into her hand and put her glass down on the counter before the woman behind the counter snatched it and shot Akira an understanding glance.

    "So, you told me you'd have some information to trade me, hm?" The dark-haired woman leaned on her hand and stared at him, her eyes almost glazing over from the action she must have found comfortable.

    He felt the hair on his neck stand up. "Right, about the Phantom Thieves," He started before a very wobbly hand almost hit him in the face clumsily. She wagged her finger and shook her head.

    "No, no, why did you want to know about Akechi-kun? I had to ask a lot of favors about him, you know. He hasn't been heard from in a while... but people haven't seemed to notice really." She hummed, her words starting to sound more clear, as they always did when she was trying to dig information out of him.

    "I just... I wanted to know for personal reasons."

    She sat up straighter, and it was then that he realized he shouldn't have said anything about it.

    Quietly he hoped that Lala was actually giving her a double of whatever alcohol she had been consuming before.

    "Personal reasons, huh? Why, are the Phantom Thieves going to deliver a calling card?" She grinned sheepishly, not breaking eye contact with him as her drink was placed down on a damp coaster. 

    Water, from the looks of it.

    Quickly he decided to just go with her suggestions. Maybe if she made up the information herself, it would save him from having to say too much.

    "Yeah," was all he said, slowly, like he was unsure. It was a clever technique he used when people were digging too much, like he was reluctant to agree. If he agreed too enthusiastically, he would raise suspicion.

    Another glass was put down beside him, again water. 

    Ohya stared at him in shock. "No kidding... so that's why you needed his address. Since he hasn't been around. Do you really think he is missing?"

    Akira picked up the glass of water and brought it to his lips. The lights from the bar reflected off of the surface of the water, bouncing the red glare into his eyes. Red like spider-lilies.

    He swallowed thickly and let out a staggered sigh. "I don't know." He mumbled, more to himself than anyone.

    _Liar._ Akechi's voice echoed in his head.

    "Hm.." The mood grew solemn, pensive. "I know a thing or two about looking for lost people, but I don't think my resources would help out in your case." He stole a glance at her as she spoke. 

    "You've done more than enough, it's okay." He reassured her, knowing full well she was also talking to herself. 

    "You think? I don't think I've done nearly enough." She brought the sweating glass up to her lips and soon scowled.

    "This is not alcohol!" She spat the water back in the glass and glared at her friend, who offered a shrug.

    "This is injustice! Do something!" 

    Akira just laughed, the largest one he could muster and shook his head. "I'm having what you're having."

    Her whining was the only retort he received.  It was really time to cut the small talk.

    "Anyhow, how did you... find out his address? I mean, I already knew you were well connected, but you found out really quickly." 

    “I found an old contact at a television studio." She swished the water around in her glass and then downed it before continuing.

    “They were the ones who were going to break him to the public as an up and coming local celebrity, but the timing was wrong, so they canceled. My informant was the one who made the decision and later got fired for it. He missed a big opportunity to cash in on the story.

    “But they had an address on file and my contact still had access to it. So when I was searching for more information, I found his lease. And there was the name!” She put a finger to her lips. “Secret stuff. Can’t talk about it any further than that!”

    Lala Escargot cleared her throat deeply as she cleaned a glass, not sparing them any sort of attention other than the obvious eavesdropping.

    Ohya laughed nervously, tracing her finger around the edge of her own drink. “I was getting to it Lala-chan don’t rush me! I am an expert at story-tellin.”

    Akira raised an eyebrow. 

    “I decided to look up the name, I guess I dug pretty deep too. I found a pretty dicey looking website with that pseudo name mentioned in garbage text.”

    Her eyes met his. They were probing, looking to see if any of this information was new to him. It was.

    “What… kind of website was it?” He gripped his glass tightly, feeling as if it could break in his hand but maybe this was information he needed.

    Maybe.

    “The only other words I pulled out of it were the Nanjo Group. Dunno, the name sounds familiar, I didn't really find much else about them but I found the fake name in association. Apparently he was involved in something more than just high school and play detective on TV." 

    He kept his temper in check, deciding to ignore the latter comment. The Nanjo Group was definitely a place to dig. He had never heard it before. 

    "But where did you find it?"

    "Honestly? I don't know, I just conducted a mini-investigation and one lead led to another, it gets a little hazy sometimes putting the connections together." She laughed and turned to him. "I wish I could explain more but that's also an industry secret you know? I’m sorry I couldn’t have found out more, it would have made an interesting story."

    He finished his glass of water and decided to prod her about it one more time.

    "How so?"

    “Well, like I said, most of the information was trash.. Like... jumbled up you know? I almost thought I was Medjed and hacked into something illegal. And then the website went blank. I guess I set off one of those website traps where it wipes the site clean if you try to highlight something.” 

    "While you were at _MY_ bar, using _MY_ wifi. I swear if I get fine for something illegal  _ you  _ did in my bar." Lala Escargot scolded her as she set down yet another glass of water and began to light a cigarette.

    "Don't worry don't worry, I deleted any trace of me! I vanished, but so did the website.”

    She let out a heavy sigh.

    He didn’t know what exactly he was expecting. When the conversation started he had been so sure he’d find out something. Today had been a complete disappointment. But it was… it was... interesting. The smoke from the cigarette danced in his line of sight, reminding him of the dream he had just a little bit ago. He wondered if he tried to grab it, the world around him would disappear.

    Vanish.

    "The Nanjo Group, you said?" He asked quietly and Ohya's eyes widened. 

    "I found all the information I could and there was very little, so I wouldn't go sticking my nose where it doesn't belong. Just keep up the hard work."

    It bothered him, though. There was just no other information? He wished he had been there with her to see exactly how she was finding out her intel, seeing the actual website she apparently tripped up, instead of just falling asleep last night.

    That was just last night... it had been a long two days. 

    "Well was there anything els-"

    She shook her head. "No, sorry. Everything else was jumbled up. I'm sure that's not what you wanted to hear, but that's life."

    That's life. He felt his hopes once again fade into smoke. "Hm..." He hummed and stood up. He bowed to her slightly and gnawed at his lip, trying to form the words that were hovering in his mind, beneath all the questions he had. Instead he looked to Lala, who was still smoking quietly in a corner.

    "Do you need help tonight?" He asked, tentatively. Working here would probably wear him out, but at the same time he was already worn out. His nap earlier did not help.

    She shook her head, her purple hair bouncing with the movement. "You look like you need rest, I can handle it here tonight." 

    He was both thankful and put out by it.

    Checking his watch it had been close to a half an hour, he could see Morgana's ears peeking out from a pane of glass in the entry door.

    "One thing though..." Ohya waved at him, motioning him closer to her. He obliged. 

    "Every time a Calling Card is issued, you guys point out a sin, right? Related to the crimes of the one who you are going to change." Her red lips pulled themselves into a frown. "What was his?"

    Akira opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

    Suddenly the itch in his neck was back, but he resisted it. 

    Akechi's sin was not real, there was no true sin. Only a sad situation of being manipulated by adults in his life.

    "Nothing." He finally answered after what seemed like minutes.

    She looked surprised, her lips pursed with disappointment. "Some good you are. I get it, keeping secrets, even from lil' old me who wouldn't tell a soul."

    He rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Maybe after it's all said and done, I'll tell you." He lied, knowing full well that Akechi didn't have a Palace, knowing full well Akechi wasn't missing, knowing full well he shouldn't even be thinking about how he could have forced the detective to change. That was pretty insulting to his memory. To his sacrifice. But hindsight made him desperate to cling onto hypotheticals and what-ifs. Wishful thinking that would never, ever see fruition.

    She made him swear on it and soon he was back on the train headed to Leblanc, Morgana on his lap as he managed to grab a seat. 

    The earlier conversation fresh in his head, desperately trying to fit together puzzle pieces that just didn't want to fall into place. He had no idea what the bigger picture looked like, but he could imagine it. Akechi is special, after all. He would have to be involved in something big enough to have information about a fake name he used, right? It made his leg bounce with excitement. But it was something he knew he'd be digging at for a long time. Maybe he'd become a journalist so he could get connections like Ohya had. Or become a government worker so he could have access to privileged information. For now he had his Treasure from earlier in the day he had to look through. 

    Morgana clawed his leg through his bag and gave a soft hiss that made him jump. He almost missed his stop. Clambering through the crowd of people he managed to get off with a few moments to spare and offered mumbled apologies. Truthfully, today was utterly exhausting. He was eager to sleep, knowing he accomplished so much, hopefully he would be rewarded with another dream of him.

    The bath house tonight made him even more exhausted. 

    He didn't get a chance to look through the clothes, Morgana keeping a heavy eye on him for some reason, nagging him to get some rest. His eyes lingered on the box with some hesitation before checking his phone one more time for a message from Iwai. 

    Nothing. 

    It had only been a few hours but his confidence was waning as he fell asleep for the second time that day.

    Fate did not reward him with dreams that night.

    But when he awoke the next morning and massaged the ache in his shoulders he knew he didn't sleep that well. Morgana, who was usually at his feet or his side had moved over to the desk where scraps of crafted tools lay abandoned. He was sound asleep, but tenser than he usually was, probably had a nightmare. He was envious of that. His nightmares often involved Akechi. He would have gladly traded. 

    Quietly he reached for his phone and checked his messages again. Nothing but unread messages from Mishima. It was still very early. He didn't even hear Sojiro downstairs yet. 

    He let out a small groan of irritation and staggered over to grab his toiletries... and stole a glance to his teammate still soundly asleep.

    Now was a good chance, right? 

    His fingers trembled a little as he pulled out the clothes he had taken yesterday. He let out a sigh of relief as they were still there. As if some part of him believed that they would have… vanished. All of the items were in pristine condition, or at least lightly worn. He smiled fondly, his fingers trailing over the embroidered badge of, what he assumed, was a spare jacket. He didn't recognize the emblem from any school in the area, maybe that was something else he could figure out later. After Shido's change of heart, things would be different for them. Soon he'd have all those pieces he was missing.

    Gray eyes widened as he realized just how tightly he was gripping the front of the uniform jacket.  He let it go instantly, smoothing out the small wrinkles he created like he was apologizing for causing them. Carefully he set it aside and decided to look through the rest. Akechi... didn't have that many sets of clothes. All of his possessions had fit into his shoulder bag after all. Most of them he had seen before, a few he hadn't. The ones he hadn’t seemed too small for him, probably. Akechi was only a few centimeters taller than him, right? They looked the same size when he had observed Akechi before, maybe he would try them on lat-

    A sharp noise behind him made him jump. Whipping his head to the side, he saw Morgana had just let out a snore and shifted before falling right back asleep.

     ' _You need to calm down.'_ He told himself before placing the clothes aside with urgency. The bottom of the box was where he threw the rest of the things he found from Akechi's apartment. Thumbing through them more carefully now he found that skin care was something the detective prince was really into. What he thought were spare shampoos were actually high quality, from the looks of it, creams and lotions. Another smile cracked through his expression, just thinking of how much effort Akechi put into his looks made him feel both joy and bitterness. 

    Because he knew it wasn't for longevity, it was to keep up appearances of a well loved person who was needed by people.

    Or perhaps the bitterness that lined the inside of his mouth was because he didn't know if that was really the reason for sure. And he’d never be able to know.

    Hurrying, he put the items back in the box, along with Akechi's toothbrush and other things he didn't dare look at right now and hid them well enough. He grabbed his own toiletries to go freshen up before the cafe opened. He wouldn't be able to go to Mementos until after school time, which meant a lot of time to kill. 

    When he got back upstairs, He noticed Morgana shivering and took pity on him, scooping him up as cautiously as possible and putting him on the bed next to him. He tried to read a book, to distract from the minutes that slowly passed into hours. When he had read the same line over and over again and realized it, he put it down and turned to his phone to research the Nanjo Group. He found nothing. Typical of his luck recently.

    He got a text from Ryuji in the mid-morning asking about going to and blowing off steam in Mementos. He hastily agreed before skimming his messages again. Rereading through Mishima's multitude of messages just made him more anxious. It's not like he desperately needed the money for anything more serious. He could spare a few thousand yen on medicine to use in the giant Palace. That would probably be the more responsible thing to do than to just try to get enough money to purchase items for his own gain.

    Maybe he could sneak off tomorrow and go to Mementos by himself. Picking off some lower level Shadows wouldn't bring in much cash but it'd help ease his consciousness that he wasn't squandering away all their earnings on Akechi's old weapons.

    Not that they had to know.

    What felt like years finally yielded in a mass group message to everyone asking for them to join him in his room so they could discuss the usual. He didn't even care really what the missions were, just read them out loud to Morgana who was now awake and fed. 

    Futaba was always either the first or the last to arrive. There was never a time when she was anything else. 

    Once he had asked her why she never arrived earlier when she obviously lived so close. Her response was merely, "Cause nice guys come last, and I'm a pretty nice guy."

    It was in that moment that he was sure she spent way too much time on 2ch than was reasonably healthy for anyone and decided never to ask her that kind of thing ever again. She was first today. He had her help him set up the room before Yusuke soon joined them, quietly offering his greetings before the younger girl started trying to goat him with some new joke she learned that day.

    It was nice to see them get along so well, especially since just a few months previous Futaba could barely string together a sentence without stuttering. He had really grown fond of her, as a sister almost so he was proud of how much she had grown just from meeting her for the first time. Slowly everyone else trickled in, all taking their assumed positions just like business as usual. But it was Ann who cornered him first.

    "How are you feeling?" She asked, keeping her voice light and sweet, an air of caution mixed in her question. Akira fixed his bangs, taking his eyes off of her for a moment before answering.

    "I'm alright, ready for this to be over."

    A pout formed on her lips and she nodded in agreement. "Yeah, me too. It's driving me crazy not knowing what’s going to happen."

_     Yeah, me too. _

    “You sure that’s it?” Another leading question. She was walking on eggshells. Akira could tell she wanted to talk to him about… whatever was bothering him. But really there was too much bothering him so he just nodded. It was easier that way, for both of them. 

    The pout turned into a frown and she gave his shoulder a squeeze. 

    “I think it’ll be okay…” Her blue gaze turned away from her hand and to meet his own.

    He wanted to believe her. He just offered her a smile and nodded. That's when Makoto took notice of them speaking over Yusuke and Futaba still arguing about the appeal of the costumes in Featherman Ranger R and joined them in their conversation.

    He saw how the student council president stole a cautious glance at Ann before looking at him.

    "You guys look pretty serious over here."  Ann shook her head and smiled at her brightly. 

    She slapped his arm in comfort. She actually was a lot stronger than she looked. He figured with her resolved intentions of working to be a model and training in the Metaverse did a lot for her physical strength and sometimes she still wasn't used to it. His arm stung a little.

    "Nah, I was just talking about how I'm ready for this to be over. Mementos was a good idea. I want to kick some butt!" Every whisper of worry left her voice, assuming an upbeat tone. The blonde's posture changed almost instantly, her fist in the air, ready for action. Almost a complete 180 from how she was behaving with him one-on-one.

    Makoto nodded pensively before staring at him like she was reading a difficult textbook. He suddenly felt like he was under examination for something. Probably trying to gauge his mental capabilities, whether this journey to Mementos was going to yield in progress or unnecessary pain due to his sudden inability to lead as well as he used to. 

    She had every reason to. But he didn't care right now.

    Suddenly Ryuji had his arm slung over his shoulders. "I'm frickin' ready! Man all this shit from our classmates about studying for exams really has me pissed. Between that and people still backin' Shido, it makes me see blood ya know." 

    Akira just chuckled in response. 

    "Come on then, let's have a meeting."

    Morgana jumped in the middle of the table, informing them all once they had quieted down, about the cases Mishima had provided them.

    Behind him, he felt the lack of eyes staring him down more intensely than when they were there. His throat dried almost instantaneously, and he scratched over his neck. 

    He was going to do his best today. He was going to be successful.

    Once everyone agreed to take down whoever it was they were going to take down, he stood up. 

    "Showtime." He whispered, before they headed out. His excitement from the day before he infiltrated Akechi's apartment returned to his step.

    Nothing was going to stop him today.

    And nothing really did stop him… at least at first. Flurries of impulsive distractions danced through his concentration, but he was able to keep his reaction time swift. Luckily their enemies had been weaker than them, so the mistakes he made were ones that were easily... handled by others in the party.

    Physical attacks were the hardest, even if he had a Persona equipped who could handle physical attacks with rebound. It wasn't the point that the Shadows weren't going to cause him pain, it was that they were physically trying to do so. Especially since inside of Mementos was dark and moody, intimidating. It brought him back to a time when he was strapped to a chair with a heel gouging his thigh, to a time when he was hit in the face repeatedly with no way to help himself. A time when a drug coarse through his veins that made him weak enough for men in suits to do whatever they wanted to him.

    Defenseless. 

    But today, he was too exhausted to react too much to the flashing images of black suits, his mind focused on one goal, money. Those glimmers of fear spiked in his veins still but he seemed better at handling it today. 

    What was unfortunate was that everyone else seemed to notice too. Annoyingly so.

    "Nice work, Joker!" Mona called from the center of their battlefield, picking up yen off the ground with enthusiasm, making sure to paw at every piece. Noir was beside him, helping collect the money into their communal pouch.  Everyone else was high-fiving him or giving him kind words. 

    It made him sick. All he did was not mess up as badly as he had in the last few weeks. Nothing he did in the course of battle warranted words of approval. If Joker from months ago had behaved the way he had today, they would have asked what was wrong and probably suggested leaving for the day. But now this was satisfactory?

    He scratched his neck, hiding his embarrassment at such unnecessary praise. All he did was not forfeit his opportunities to counterstrike and listen to Oracle and Queen when they spoke. All he did was not allow his mind to wander too much on what happened almost a month ago. All he did was not allow his mind to wander too much about Crow. Crow.

    Crow wouldn't have cheered with them all, would he? No, he would have been polite but given him advice on what he could have improved. Because that was the point, to get better so these battles didn't consistently exhaust them and their resources. Because getting through as many enemies as possible while exuding less energy was the ideal way to handle a Palace as big as Mementos. And right now, Joker... Akira was wasting resources and time.. and energy.

    He wished someone would just be honest with him, tell him how to get over this growing impatience. His gaze traveled from one of his team mates to another, until he finally saw Queen who was, as well, smiling proudly at him.

    "It's good to have you back, leader." She smiled and adjusted her helmet that fell askew. 

    This was pathetic. He could tell there was a rift growing between them, even before... this. Maybe speculations about how they would react to the news of him retiring. His fears gripped him in reality now. He just confirmed it. Never once had they discussed his multitude of mistakes while in combat. He had remembered feeling thankful for it, but now when in harsh juxtaposition to their gratitude made him feel resentful. He shouldn't be feeling this way, he knew it somewhere in the back of his mind. He knew they were worried about him and just didn't want to make things worse... but then again, hadn't he been in the same position with Akechi? He wanted to help but just let things go instead of confronting the issue head on.

    He could have changed everything. Everything that happened was his fault. He was the reason Akechi wasn't with them now, his own sin was negligence. He...

    When Mona transformed back until the bus, his attention fell back to the present. Joker offered his teammates a smile, hiding the bitterness that was tainting his posture. He attempted to stand up straight and motioned for them to come back to the van. From there, it was downhill. Eventually they made it to rest spot, heaving for air. Skull had slumped onto the seat in the alcove, sweat dripping down his face. Panther was nursing a fresh cut on her arm with medicine and Queen was helping her administer it. He could barely see her eyes but he knew she was upset. Panther squirmed and whispered under her breath something he could not pick up on.

    Oracle and Mona were both checking over Fox, who had been hit with hunger and was now remedying the ailment with Noir's help. Akira was alone in the corner, just watching them fuss over each other because he hadn't seen the Shadows behind them as they ventured down much deeper in Mementos, closer to the door, where the enemies had higher powers and more change.

    He messed up again. Just when things were looking good, just when they were starting to feel at ease around him again.

    "Panther, stop squirming so much." He heard Queen scold her, probably more harshly than she intended. She sounded a lot like her sister. Panther did, indeed stop fidgeting as her skin began to heal, pulling itself back together from the fall she took trying to stop a blade charging at Joker. She compromised her position for him. The bond he felt with her struggled under his dead weight. What if it had been her face that got cut instead? What if it had scarred? Her future would have been destroyed because of his carelessness.

    He looked over at Fox who was now eating and not huddled over his knees in pain from hunger. He knew, or at least thought he knew, what Yusuke had been through, even if Yusuke himself hadn't told him. It had been evident in the way that Yusuke handled food, it was as if he was used to eating not much or very little. Punishments from Madarame were probably similar to when he was hit by hunger spells in the Metaverse. When Joker had been afflicted by them, it was as if he hadn't eaten in days. The pang of pain pitted in his stomach caused his muscles to seize and he could think of nothing else but food. And he let his teammate, no his friend, go through that pain all over again. Even though he was smiling now...

    Even though all of them were relieved now, smiling, the tension that had filled the air dissipated. He was still there, in the corner, watching them all. They all had something in common, they had hurt so much in their past. They all had that common trait, they had suffered from adults in this world. Even so, they all had ideals, goals for their future. They had all been victims and suffered... except him. In comparison, his past was nothing, a mere dispute that landed him being sued and sent off to Tokyo to live for a year while his parents tried to find another school to accept him and keep their distance from him for a while. In comparison, he held no aspirations for the future, not anymore anyway.

    He was nothing like them, how could he even relate, how could he even dare call himself the leader of the Phantom Thieves when they had all been enslaved to society's pressures and whims. When they all had been forced to do unpleasant and vile things by adults. All that happened to him was he tried to protect a woman and got sued for it. That left a physical mark on his record, but they all had emotional and physical scars from their experiences. Well.. he had those too, but he was much worse at handling them than everyone else had been. It just didn’t feel the same…

    There was a tug on his jacket and he looked down to come eye to eye with Mona. 

    “Everyone seems okay now, let’s go to check the door.” 

    He wasn’t okay but that didn’t really matter. He nodded and decided to let Queen drive the rest of the way. 

    He sat in the back with his eyes closed, listening to them talk about everyday life and school. It had been so long since he had been to class, and really he wasn’t looking forward to going back, even though he knew he had to.

    They soon were down as deep as they could go, avoiding some Shadows and making their encounters as short as possible. With every mistake his mind told him he needed to throw in the towel, but he couldn’t refuse the money right now. They were getting low on some basic supplies. He would have to introduce them to Takemi soon, if he really was going to call it quits. It was the least he could do. He would hand them over all the remaining money too and his weapons. Well.. after he bought Crow’s weapons back from Iwai. 

    Examining the still very locked door, he felt everyone’s morale drop even more. Noir let out a small, exasperated sigh.

    “I don’t feel like this thing is ever going to open.” 

    Skull growled and kicked the door in frustration then took to banging on it as hard as he could, like someone on the other side would let them in if he made enough noise.

    “Oh right, I’m sure  _ that  _ will work.” Oracle rolled her eyes and sat down on the ground, fidgeting with her headset, presumably examining the door.

    “Well, I don’t see  _ you  _ coming up with any bright ideas.” He spat back before knocking even harder.

    “Yo, Shadows! Open up, we just wanna talk!” He yelled, loud enough to make Panther cover her ears. 

    “Skull, why do you always have to be so loud?” She scolded him.

    “Maybe being loud is what we need to do!” He tried a few more times before sitting down in front of the door, his arms crossed in obvious frustration. 

    “Wait, I have news.” Everyone turned to Oracle so suddenly she jumped in response.

    “Well, what is it? Did you find something?” Fox asked, crouching down beside to her stare at the door, as if it could open any second.

    “N-no. Just that Skull did absolutely nothing to it, it’s still locked.” She gulped, shoving Fox away from her so she had more room. “I didn’t expect you all to get so excited about it, geez. It’s not going to budge just from some idiot wailing on it like that.”

    An aggravated murmur started buzzing around the vast room.

    He looked around at all of them, feeling more than ever that they were defeated and frustrated. He turned his attention to Queen, hoping she would say a few words so he wouldn’t have to, but she remained silent, a scowl gracing her lips.

    “Maybe after Shido confesses.” He finally said, finding the strength to do so. Immediately everyone’s eyes were on him.

    “I know our ratings on the Phan-site haven’t been the best, but… taking down someone with this much publicity should give the public knowledge of us. Even internationally, right?” He watched them exchange glances.

    “So maybe that’ll be enough to open this door.” He knew he was pinning his trust on a ‘what-if’ but beggars couldn’t be choosers in this situation. 

    That’s when Queen spoke up. “He’s right, you know. Every other time it was when someone confessed.” She stood up from her crouching position beside Panther and placed a hand on her chin in thought. “Because everything was publicly announced, we were talked about. And that was enough to make the doors open. When Shido confesses… we have to be the talk of the city again. Our popularity might not climb anymore, but there won’t be a person in Tokyo who doesn’t know who the Phantom Thieves are. And if what Joker said is right, this will gain international attention as well. It may be enough.” She shot a smile at him.

    “Perhaps it would be beneficial for the time being to wait to see what happens and keep training. We don’t know what’s on the other side of this door but I’m sure it won’t be happy to see us.”

    “Especially after Skull tried to annoy them.” Oracle snuck in under her breath, but made sure it was loud enough for everyone to hear.

    “Stop singling me out.” He groaned and rubbed the back of his neck.

    Everyone laughed gently at the joke, again instantly breaking the tension they were all feeling. Even Mona laughed. They all agreed it was all they could do for now and they should call it a day. 

    “If any more requests come in, we should go again and train up.” Makoto told him once they were back at Leblanc, handing over the money they had gotten from their trip today. He nodded and set the money aside, mentally apologizing for what he was going to use it on. 

    “I’ll go get some medicine from Takemi-sensei in the meantime.” 

    “Yes, I think that’s a wise move.” She gave him a small, meaningful smile. “Whatever’s on the other side of that door, we will deal with it together.” 

    Guilt hit him all over again, how could they still depend on him as part of this team? But he found himself agreeing all the same and seeing them all out with solemn goodbyes. It was so close to the election now.

    He checked his phone and sighed as no messages from Iwai had come through, though several from others had, one being his teacher whom he hadn’t seen since he had started pretending to be dead. It was still early in the evening and he really had nothing else to do. Morgana had actually departed with Haru for the night, needed a change from the normal attic once again. He understood completely, it was suffocating here now. Morgana really enjoyed her company. Maybe if he left, Morgana would want to stay with her or Futaba. It’d be better for him that way. If he could really leave now. It was obvious that they were counting on him, even after constantly making them hurt unnecessarily. 

    After washing up and heading back to his prison, his muscles still didn’t settle from the stress of earlier, his body weary. The temptation to call Kawakami grew enough that he willed himself to actually sit down in the chair in front of the yellow payphone. It felt comfortable, much more comfortable than his bed did. All he could think about right now was red spider-lilies and their falling petals. The gun that dropped out of Akechi’s hand in the dream last night. It was the best dream he had in awhile. Sojiro was humming and cleaning up, ready to lock up the place when Akira rested his head on the counter, his hand on the receiver, but he never managed to pick it up. It was warm here, in this spot. Soothing almost. 

    He retracted his hand and curled his arms around his head, breathing in the smell of coffee and reminiscing of memories forever etched in his mind. He didn’t even hear Sojiro tell him to go upstairs before he drifted off. He didn’t hear Sojiro go upstairs and rummage around in his room, nor did he feel when his caretaker draped a light gray jacket over his shoulders, an unfamiliar school emblem embroidered on the front of it. All he knew right now was a small cell, dark eyes staring at him, blood obscuring Akechi’s face from full view. All he could do was marvel at the spider-lilies that bloomed, promising nothing but abandonment and reality that he would never see Akechi again. All he could hear was Akechi reading him his sins like a death sentence before one again disappearing in front of him in a cloud of smoke he desperately tried to catch.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I specifically chose red spider-lilies for the flower for the meaning of abandonment and the sentiment of never being able to meet again. 
> 
> I would also like to note that I will be referencing to every other persona main title game in this work. The Nanjo Group is from the first Persona Game. 
> 
> My twitter is @chromiekins


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my beta menthechocolat and to eyrdamun for helping me out so much. Also my wife as well. Please note the rating and tags.
> 
> I did take some liberty with the canon conversations that take place in this chapter.

It was Sojiro's face that greeted him the next morning. Or, rather, a loud clank of ceramic on a wooden counter that woke him. The spiral of spider-lilies curled into ash as Akira’s eyes slid open rather abruptly and he sat up from the abrasive noise. His back cracking at the movement and his shoulders ached as he rolled them, stiff and sore. He looked around, noticing now that he was still sitting in the chair. He had fallen asleep? He didn't even realize.

Akira rubbed his eyes as his caretaker moved away from him. Gazing down, the smell of warm coffee filtered through his nose and released a deep, sleepy sigh from his lungs. 

"Bout time you woke up, customers are about to come in. Go on, drink it." Sojiro didn't spare him a glance but he was fine with that. He yawned and rubbed his aching shoulders, his hand freezing over the fabric draped over his back, like some sort of cape.

Akechi's...? 

He looked up to Sojiro who finally granted him attention, Akira's eyebrow knit in puzzlement.

"Well you fell asleep down here. I couldn't have you getting sick on me, that'd be a pain. Futaba-chan's enough to deal with when she gets sick." There was a gentle chuckle hugging his words and Akira instantly felt comforted by his concern. But… his guardian was no fool, nor was he that oblivious. Akechi had become almost a regular around here, surely he recognized the jacket.

He look a deep breath, and let it out slowly, cautiously.

"I can expla-" He began only to have his words cut off by Sojiro's hand waving his explanations away.

"Don't need an explanation, I'll just assume it was given to you for some reason. I don't need the details."

A flush of relief warmed him, knowing full well what Sojiro meant. No more prying meant Sojiro didn’t have to know he technically did something illegal while on parole. 

"Thank you." He murmured, pulling the jacket closer to him. He stared at his coffee as Sojiro offered no more words and slowly sipped it. For the first time in a long while, he had been comfortable here. Looking at the clock now, he saw it was actually far too early for the cafe to be open, in fact, it was earlier than Sojiro usually came. At least he could take his time. 

"So what are you going to do?"

Did he miss something again? 

"Sorry?"

"After all this. After that bastard confesses. What are you going to do? You don't have that much longer in this place, after all." The older man stated, wiping down the counter, though it hadn't been used yet.

Retirement was the first word that popped into his head, relinquishing the title of leader and Phantom Thief in one swoop, shedding old skin to try to live normally. He heard a laugh in his head and a soft liar echo in his ears that sent shivers down his spine. That's right, he was a liar. He still had other promises to uphold before he could finish. He squashed the idea from his mind. There was nothing he could do now except continue the path he was walking now.

After Shido's confession... he would carry on.

_ it'll destroy you. _

"Keep doing what I'm doing... until I have to leave, I guess." He mumbled, just loud enough for Sojiro to hear him.

He didn't know when Sojiro made his way around the bar to sit with him but he jumped when he heard the chair pull out beside him and the older man slid into it. He heaved a deep sigh and took a sip of his own coffee that he had brewed for himself.

"You know when I agreed with your mom to take you in," He peered over at Akira, not letting go of his coffee. "I thought you'd be a bigger handful than you ended up being." 

That came out of nowhere. Akira stared at him before taking a small swallow of coffee. He decided to wait to see where Sojiro went with this. He guessed he should take the compliment, even if it was backhanded.

"I didn't think you'd end up helping us so much."

After that Sojiro didn't say anything, just stared off at the grain of the counter.

"Getting sentimental?" Akira joked, trying desperately to lighten the mood. He didn't know how much of this he could take. He was owed no thanks, really. He didn't do anything except listen to people talk and offered them the words they needed to hear so much. Every conversation was weighted and catered to their wants and needs that his opinions of their dilemmas were really nothing, all he did was sit there. Anyone could have done that. Anyone. He was no one special.

Sojiro laughed and shook his head. "Nah, I'm not getting sentimental, especially about a teenage boy. But, I just thought you needed to hear it."

Did he slip up again? Worrying people around him would do nobody any good.

"I thought you were feeling a bit better but when I was looking around for your jacket I found that." The older man motioned towards Akira's jacket. Akechi's jacket. He opened his mouth to defend whatever crazy idea that even made him want Akechi’s clothes, when really he didn’t quite know, himself but Sojiro mercifully silenced him.

"Like I said, I don't want to know, but it is a bit weird.”

"I wasn't going to tell anyone." An excuse, not really one that made sense but it came out of his mouth carelessly anyway. Tell them what, exactly, he didn't know. That he broke into Akechi's apartment and stole clothes from him? That he was tempted to use any kind of force possible to get his weapons back?  That he missed him?

No, he would never tell anyone that. They didn't need to hear it.

"Well, considering all I've heard, I'm sure you have your reasons. For whatever you've done and whatever you're going to do." He was skirting around the main issue, but for once Akira had no idea what the main issue actually was.

"I guess.." He finished off his coffee and stood up. The atmosphere was almost crushing him as he took the coat off and draped it gently over the chair. His chest tightened painfully as he did so. It was almost enough to picture him there but... 

"What I'm trying to say, I guess, is that if you don't feel you can keep going like this, just try to remember why you were doing this all in the first place." In the first place? Why was he doing all this? For fame? No.... to save people, to be a beacon of hope that shone through all the shit in the world.

But his own light for himself was fading. That bright glimmer of optimism was being snuffed out with each passing day.

For now he'd risk that light for others, even if just once more. After Shido's confession, after Mementos and Morgana regained his memory, then he could rest. And mourn. 

It was a hole he was digging himself into, a six foot deep one that he could lay in once his promises were upheld, bury himself under the weight of them once he was able to finally close this part of his life. But to what avail?

The confusion that constantly tugged on his sense of justice and his desire for answers was pulling him apart at the seams. Each doubt popping a delicate stitch that kept him intact. Things were really hard right now and he wasn't sure he'd be able to handle any more digging into his psyche at this point. Now all he craved was his bed and to be far away from here, in a cold, dark cell where only he and Akechi existed.

He simply thanked Sojiro for talking to him and washed the cup he had dirtied before heading upstairs with Akechi's coat gripped tightly in his arms.

Morgana wouldn't be back until Haru dropped him off later in the day, he had this morning to himself. He was still rubbing sleep out of his eyes but he held the jacket up in front of him. looking long and hard at it. No one would know, right? It'd be their secret.

He slipped his arms in the sleeves.

Akira adjusted the front of the jacket, wishing very much that he had a mirror to at least look at how it fit him. At the same time, it was probably for the best. The sleeves were a bit long, covering up the very center of his hands. The shoulders were a bit broader than his own. He had almost forgotten that Akechi was taller than him but it was evident in the way the jacket fell on him, passed his waist just slightly enough to affect the shape. Akira pulled the coat tightly around himself and closed his eyes as he sat on the bed, enjoying the warmth and peace in his room. No one would come in and bother him.

Akira slumped down on the bed, curling up with his knees barely touching his chest and held his legs there. All this waiting around had always been difficult, but with the mounted stress surrounding the current situation, waiting was like pulling teeth with nothing to numb the pain. It was agitating the very edges of his composure, much like those stitches that pieced him together being popped one by one.

He stretched out from his position, the fabric around him gripping onto once exposed skin. This was comfortable, laying here like this, waiting for something, anything to help him ignore the nagging restlessness. He could research the Nanjo Group, but that had proven before to be a fruitless endeavor. The thought had passed him that he could ask Futaba to dig deeper into the bowels of the internet but he didn't want her to have a target on her back. He didn't doubt her capabilities, but he also didn't want to put her at risk for something as selfish as finding out more about the person responsible for her mother's death. It was something he didn't want to explain to her or trouble her with. 

Niijima may be another resource he could talk to, but with her schedule being as hectic trying to build a case for the possibility that Shido confessed, it would be counterproductive to ask her for more information on Akechi. He’d have to wait for the opportunity to ask but right now it wasn't relevant except to his own needless desires for answers. 

If he had some place he could go, to get away from everything, he would feel better... maybe. All the pressure caving in on him from all sides was enough to make his skin itch. It was too much even in the downtime as his mind wandered from mistake to mistake he made with each passing day. 

_ "You're pathetic. You can't even handle this?" _ A voice whispered in his ear, a soft breezy chuckle made his skin crawl. He was pathetic. 

Akira's fingers tightened around the closure of the jacket, the jacket that still smelled faintly of coffee and some scent he couldn't place. He shivered and curled in closer on himself, imagining honest, cruel words taunting him.

This was different than his dreams, this Akechi's voice was mocking and warm. A breath like steam rising from a fresh cup of coffee. He couldn't quite picture him as a solid figure, looming over him behind his closed eyes, but he could imagine his lips casting a grim, pointed smile. When did he accept this poor imitation of Akechi into his life? Was he that desperate?

_ “Obviously you are desperate. Look how the mighty have fallen. You can't even lead anymore, wasn't that your only talent? Admit it, you're useless." _

Akira gritted his teeth, his eyes now tightly screwed shut. A small knot of tension settling somewhere in his stomach and constricted with every truth buried in honest words. The jacket around him was warmer than the heater that was now a hazy hum in the background of his own breathing. Breathing that scent of the fabric in and out.

"I... I am useless." He murmured in affirmation, small shudder of humiliation rushing through him, hitting that spot in his stomach where his stress manifested. 

It felt good to admit it, finally.

_ "That's right, you aren't talented, either. You aren't special. You've done nothing to deserve to be called that." _

Another small wave of embarrassment heated his cheeks, knowing full well that this bastardization of Akechi he had conjured in his mind was right. What he wasn’t sure of was when his hand slipped into his pants, past the waistband of his boxers.

Akechi laughed at him as the labor of his lungs grew ragged when he gripped his hardening cock. The laugh just made him grow firmer under his ministrations. He was spellbound, bewitched by sweet honesty laced with malice. 

_ "How could an ineffective piece of shit like yourself even make it this far? Relying on others is the only skill you possess. You're a parasite, you know. Only parasites use others like you do. What do you actually contribute?"  _

Nothing. The answer was nothing. He existed here for no other reason than to exist. Akira moaned out softly, the pain from his dry hand causing friction on his sensitive flesh was too good, he deserved this. He was a parasite, he deserved this pain. He pulled the pillow up to his face to deafen his whimpers of pleasure. His thumb grazed over the wetness at the tip of his cock, sliding his now damp hand up and down his length of his erection with more ease. It was almost too kind of him to have that relief. A kindness that failures like him weren't worthy of. 

_ "Don't ignore me, prisoner." _ The voice in his head grew in desperation as the pace of his hand quickened. He shifted, now rolling over on his back so he could hear better, hear damning words with both unworthy ears. He needed this. He needed this. He bit his lip to try to keep quiet as he spread his legs open, not slowing his pace as he spread more pre-cum down his now throbbing dick.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, in a broken voice, the cuff of the jacket now caught in the motion of his hand, the texture making him arch his hips up and his toes curl in the sheet beneath him. He almost cried out, but found enough resolve to push his palm into his mouth to smother his groan.

 

_ "As if sorry could do anything, look at you. You're disgusting trash. What kind of person jacks off in a dead man's clothes."  _ Akechi sneered out a truthful, beautiful punch to his pride that made him bit down hard on the flesh of his hand in reaction. A rush of adrenaline hit him at once, the tense feeling in his stomach releasing as he came from the sensation. 

He didn't realize just how hard he was breathing until the voice that mocked him so graciously faded from his head, the gasps of air drowning out the song of the siren trying to lure him to a suffocating death in that stormy sea in his soul. He missed it already, whatever it was that taunted him.

Akira pulled his hand out from his pants and finally opened his eyes. He stared at the mess on his fingers and the sleeve of the soft grey jacket.

"Shit." He said angrily, adjusting his pants and walking over to his shelving unit and grabbed his towel. He hastily wiped his hand off, not bothering to examine an angry red ring of teeth marks on his left palm and carefully cleaned the sleeve off. Of course he got it dirty. He was so disgusting.

He shed the jacket, cursing himself through the numbing pleasure that lingered in his brain. He took care folding it up and put it in his laundry basket before cleaning himself up and changing his clothes. 

The attic was still chilly, and the shame of his actions was the only thing keeping him warm now. He sat down on his bed, processing through the haze of endorphins buzzing around in his head. He didn't even want to try to understand why the idea of Akechi talking to him like that gave him that kind of reaction. He shivered and pulled his top blanket around himself. Akira lowered himself down and curled up once more, burying his face in the pillow again. His palm was pulsating now, he could feel it through the muck of pleasure still rattling around in his head. He didn’t know he bit himself that hard. Truthfully it had been a long while since he had any sort of privacy so it didn’t take long.

But he didn’t feel better.

Akira pulled the pillow closer to him, trying to make sense of his own desires and why they manifested in the form of Akechi degrading him. Maybe because of what happened in Mementos, that no one dared call him out on his mistakes. Maybe because Akechi was always honest with him during their conversations. They were genuine and truthful… maybe.

Maybe, maybe,  _ maybe, maybe,  _ **_maybe_ ** _ ,  _ **_maybe!_ **

He growled and threw the pillow he was holding across the room as hard as he could, watching it knock into the shelf that held gifts from his confidants and panicked as he saw it teeter. 

He jumped out of bed and managed to catch the delicate items before they clattered onto the shelf, or worst the ground.

“Shit… Akira get ahold of yourself.” He mumbled, setting things up straight again and picked up his pillow from the ground. He returned to his bed and laid down, a frustrated pout soiled his lips, deciding it was best to push his reasoning far away from himself and chalk it up to stress. After all, that voice… in his head just told him everything he was thinking earlier… just in the tone of someone who had always been…

He let out an exasperated sigh and hid his face in his pillow. Doing so made it easier to hide from the world that he was crying again. Doing so made it easier to lie to himself that everything was going to be okay.

The day passed without much to distract him from the underlying shame he felt from the morning. Every incoming text message made him jolt with anticipation that Iwai had found his buyer and managed to convince them to return the items. Every single text he received was disappointing. He didn’t up leaving his bed, the urge to take his mind off of everything sank to the very bottom of his priorities.

After noon, Akira forced himself out of bed and got dressed to throw in a load of laundry across the street, his eyes averted from the jacket that he washed on the gentlest cycle available. He didn’t feel right washing it but he… had to. He took it out as soon as he could and went back to his room to hang it up before he headed to Takemi to stock up on medication as he promised.

She hardly lifted her eyes to meet his before muttering a bland greeting to him. This is how she always was though, even after he established such a strong connection with her. He thought, perhaps, her attitude would change after he rejected her a month ago. If anything, the usual greeting was a just a sign that nothing between them had changed.

“What do you want?” She asked as he approached the counter, a petite coy smile graced her lips. The clinic was still as empty as most days he visited, but he could tell the doctor was in a much better mood, though it would probably kill her to admit it.

“Just the usual.” He sighed as she handed him a stock list. He checked a few items they were running low on back to her and looked up. Her face was very close to his, eyes staring him down.

She hummed, the sound of her heel clacking on title caught his attention. 

“What?” He ask, backing up just a half a pace away from her. 

“You look pale. Have you been taking care of yourself?” She eyed him again before taking the list from his hands and starting to assemble the supplies he requested.

"Really? I think I look pretty good for a dead person." He retorted, smirking to himself at his attempt to banter. It didn't come as often as it used to these days.

"Right, right." She laughed under her breath but he could still hear it before shooting him a sly grin that cut straight through him. Takemi was... honestly his type. She was strong willed and hardworking, with a bit of cynicism and dark humor that kept him on his toes around her. But, to this day he still rejected her... and he didn't quite understand it himself. He wasn't opposed to women or men but each time it came around that the women in his life opened themselves to him, he turned them all down. Every one of them. 

He would be a rubbish boyfriend to anyone right now. It wasn't even something he thought he could make time for, a partner. His schedule was stretched thin as it was, it just wasn't time in his life for a relationship. More missed opportunities he tried not to think too hard about.

"Here." she handed him a black plastic bag and he counted out the money he owed her. Luckily it didn't eat into his cash too much. He could feel her eyes on him still and he met her gaze.

"There's something else in there for you." She sat down back in her chair, her eyes not leaving his. 

"Oh? What did I do to deserve a freebie?" Akira leaned on the counter, not even bothering to look in the bag. He'd rather hear her tease him than confirm the contents for himself anyhow.

“Absolutely nothing. It’s to help you sleep. You'll see it in there. There are four red pills in the unmarked bottle. Don't think you can pull the wool over my eyes, Guinea Pig." She waved a pen at him lazily and leaned back in her seat. "I've seen dead people look better than you."

“Are you saying I’m not handsome?”

“You know.” She instantly snapped back with a scowl painted on her face. “what I’m saying. Get some rest, and when you can’t, take those and let me know how you feel after.” 

“If that the doctor's orders." He sighed and peeked in the bag at the medication. She nodded firmly.

"Come back and see me after the New Year's at least. I know you're a busy being thieves and all, but don't forget about the people who helped get you there." 

He got hit with a small pang of guilt, it had been a long time since he had come back here. Even longer since he had met with any of his friends one on one. Another reason adding to the pile of weight threatening to snap his spine in half. He thanked her and left, grabbing his laundry on the way back to Leblanc. After folding his clothes and avoiding thinking of the reason why his pants and boxers from earlier had to be washed, he sat in his room and try to research the Nanjo Group again. As the day wore on to night, he purposefully avoided his phone, hoping, by some miracle, by the time he checked it again he would have some sort of news.

He didn't get anything except a text from Haru saying that Morgana was going to stay with her until Sunday. Election Day.

 

**OUTGOING MAIL**

 

[18:42] That's fine, I'm glad he's having a good time.

 

He didn't wait long for a response.

 

**INCOMING MAIL- OKUMURA HARU**

 

[18:45] He told me to tell you to go to sleep at a reasonable hour. 

 

Of course he did. He thanked her and got up, rummaging around in the bag for the bottle of sleeping pills Takemi gave him. He trusted her enough to take whatever she gave him at this point, but he didn't trust himself enough to sleep peacefully without some sort of aid. His mind would wander to everything... even earlier in the day and he didn't want to think about that right now.

Takemi's medicine worked within ten minutes and he was out for the rest of the night, no dreams awaited him in his slumber, no visions of Akechi, bleeding or cruelly taunting him haunted his unconscious state.

The next day was about the same, he busied himself with keeping Makoto updated on what he did previously to help prepare them for Mementos and she decided to come to the cafe to help him study during the evening. He could barely keep his mind on the material, though. Tomorrow was the election and absorbing any knowledge right now as just going to be a futile attempt.

Akira only realized he was tapping his pencil when Makoto put her hand on his to stop it.

“Ah, sorry.” He shook his head and pushed his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose. “You were saying something.”

She let out a small sigh, not out of irritation but exhaustion. 

“I was saying we should probably stop here for the night.”

He couldn’t agree more. He stretched and provided her no argument to her conclusion as she gathered her things.

“I’ll walk you back to the station at least." She didn't stop him. They walked in silence, a heavy air of uncertainty causing a visible rift between them. She wanted to tell him something, and he knew she did. Both of them kept their game of quiet until they were standing outside the stairs to go down to the trains.

“Here." The class president said, handing him a stack of papers. "It's from Ann. She's been taking notes and I've sublimated some of my own in there from last year." 

Akira took the notes, stowing them away in the bag and turned back to her. "Thank you."

"Don't worry about it, I know you must be nervous. I mean, about tomorrow." Truthfully he was nervous but he didn't show it.

"I'm sure it'll work out." He flashed her a small, reassuring smile. Perfectly timed and perfectly kept. It helped the mood considerably.

"You're right, of course you are. We will meet up tomorrow and see the results, yeah?" 

"I'll send everyone a text tonight in the group chat and make sure they know." 

Makoto tucked her hair behind her ear, her eyes downcast and pondering before looking up at him and gave him one of the most nervous smiles he had seen from her. 

"We'll see you tomorrow then! Sleep well." And with that she turned on her heel and walked down to her train.

He wasted her time. All of their time. Akira sighed before pulling out his phone and sending a text to the chat informing them all to meet at Leblanc tomorrow. Hopefully Shido would confess before being voted in. It was strange that no one seemed to react to their calling card, but maybe... just maybe.

Maybes... again. 

The night was not kind to him, he didn't sleep well until he decided to take one of the pills Takemi had given him. After that, he was out well until noon. Another dreamless night that made him crave solace in his imagination. 

By the time everyone else had arrived, it was already well afternoon and Sojiro decided to close early to give them all privacy. What Akira didn't realize was that his guardian and Niijima had brought food to celebrate. Like they were so sure. So certain this would happen. He longed for that confidence back, yearned for it like a starved man.

So when Shido poured out his confessions over national television after being voted into office, he wasn't surprised by the cheers coming out of his teammates mouths. No, he wasn't surprised by the reaction of the men on screen with the man panicking and trying to make sense of what happened. 

There was so much hitting him at once that it was hard to move. Like a force from every side of his body was keeping him upright but he could fall if any realization of the situation pushed itself too hard on him. 

He barely heard Sojiro's words, barely understood Niijima's as well. But, here he was... standing, breathing, living in one piece. He survived this. They all did. Shido had confessed and Niijima swore to prosecute him.

So really what he was surprised about was....

Exactly how empty he felt. 

Like if anyone touched him right now he would crack into pieces and splinter into shards that would rip through anyone who dared tried to piece him back together. Like all of his blood had been replaced with ice and he would never warm up. 

But they won. They won. He kept his promise, or at least... the process had begun. 

If only Akechi could be standing here, beaming in their collective pride. It was only when Futaba started crying softly did his attention snap back to the present. He was moving in slow motion, listlessly wandering through the buzz of conversation until everyone's eyes were on Niijima.

Her promise about letting adults handle things filtered through his ears and settled somewhere along his tongue, making it impossible to answer. It was too much to rely on someone else to do handle it from here. His vow... was seeing fruition. And he had to hand it off to someone else to make it work.

_ All you do is rely on others. _

He was barely cognizant of the conversation surrounding his schooling, but he would sort that out after everyone had gone home. 

They were all cheering now, he raised his glass out of reflex and drank his water and watched as Niijima made her leave, citing that Shido was in the hospital.

He hoped jail would be the only place that held that son of a bitch soon.

Everyone was chatting and in high spirits, tears still adorning Haru and Futaba's cheeks and laughter filled the cafe as they talked excitedly about the Phantom Thieves biggest heist yet. He found that moment to slip away and follow the prosecutor outside. 

"Niijima-san." He called out to her, finding his opportunity and seizing it without a second of doubt in his mind.

She stopped and turned to him, her eyes kind and warm to him. Funny that just a month ago they were sitting across from each other for hours as drugs coursed through his veins and his body was broken and beaten. 

He was still apprehensive of her, but this was bigger than his fear.

"Was there something you need, Kurusu-san?" She asked, checking her watch before crossing her arms. Impatience was riddling her composure. She had work to do, he understood that but maybe... hopefully.

"I wanted to ask you about something.... about Akechi." His mouth was moving faster than his mind, trying very hard to cut to the chase before she dismissed herself on account of her work.

Hesitation.

What?

"Oh, right, Akechi-kun." Like she had just an acquaintance from long ago. What the hell was that? He was under the impression they were close, at least... closer than he and Akechi were. 

His skin prickled with apprehension and quiet rage at the thought of them spending time together, but he pushed those thoughts aside to focus on what was unfolding in front of him.

And what was happening right now was lighting a small panic inside him.

"Well he is missing right now, but there hasn't been a search warrant issued for his place of residency yet." She tapped her lip with her finger in thought.

Not that the would find anything, he already ransacked the place but... really? That was what she was pulling out of this conversation?

"That's... not what I wanted to talk to you about." He inhaled a sharp breath before letting it out through gritted teeth, his breath visible in the waning sunlight of this cold December day. She snapped out of her trance-like state.

"Just about him, you two were close right?" It pained him physically to admit it, like the truth of their relationship was stabbing him in the tongue, over and over again with each passing syllable. 

"Not particularly, no. Why do you ask?" She kept her voice calm and professional, like she was talking about the weather instead of an actual living human being. Dead human being. 

"Wait, I thought you worked together since he became a celebrity. I remember Makoto talking about it because she went to cram school with him." His statement came out with uncertainty, trying to make heads or tails of what was going on. She seemed so... vastly indifferent to the topic.

"Ah, right, he was incredibly smart. I can't believe he fooled me for so long." Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she pulled it out.

He was losing time.

"Look, I know you have to leave but could you just tell me anything about him?" He couldn't help the panicked tone of his voice, not now. Not that he would never see her again, but right now he was grasping as straws.

"Kurusu-san, I really have to go." Niijima's frown softened and her eyes lit up like she recalled something. Quickly she dug around in her bag. "Here." She held out a small, folding piece of paper and pressed it into his hand.

"We often ate there after work. I'm sorry, I really do have to go or else this case will start off cold and we can't have that. The odds are stacked up against us enough as it is."

He clutched the paper and watched her leave, her hair blowing in the wind.

A coupon... now that he looked at it. Genki Sushi? He quickly pulled out his phone, ignoring the list of unread emails from his confidants for now and pulled up a map. It was in Shibuya... he'd have to go next time he was there. He put the coupon in his pocket, his fist closed over it like it was a rope that he was clinging onto for even the chance of making out of this mess alive.

He was so useless.

When he went back inside, he saw the conversation had almost died down.

"Oh, there you are!" Ann turned around once the jingling bells announced he had come back. "Where'd you go to?"

Akira blinked and fidgeted with his bangs, his other hand firmly in his pocket still. "Ah just needed to check something."

"No matter, no matter, come sit down and eat!" Haru motioned for him to take a chair next to them while they discussed their accomplishments as the Phantom Thieves with bravo and joyous celebration. It was exhausting. Morgana had curled up on the counter to watch the festivities, Futaba sneaking him raw fish every once in a while to keep him contented. 

Soon he watched every one of his friends leave until both Yusuke and Ryuji were the only ones left.

"Hey man." The blonde's arm slid around his shoulders. The weight was comforting to him, it felt like some resemblance of normality was returning to him. At least for now.

"Glad you have you back."

Yusuke, who was putting on his coat, turned to them both. 

"Yes, leader, it'll be good to see you in a uniform again."

“Dude phrasing.” His friend chuckled and raised an eyebrow at him but didn't comment further on it.

"I guess I'll see you at school tomorrow." He grinned fully, his teeth flashing in the overhead light of the cafe.

"Yeah, just like old times..." That's right, school tomorrow. It had been a month. The notes from Makoto were still unread on his desk in his room. He'd have to look over them, now that everything... was over.

This was like a nail in the coffin, complete acceptance that he did everything he could do and now had to leave it up to others to finish the job. 

His neck itched.

He saw them both off to the station and went back to take a bath and go to bed. Morgana was sitting on his mattress waiting for him. He sat down beside him, happy to have his friend back with him. Truthfully, the last two days had been quite lonely but needed. Not that he was any more confident about his true feelings surrounding this entire situation, but it made him appreciate the company. 

He pulled out his phone and checked the unread messages. Mishima mainly, spouting on about how he saw the conference but the response it received was lukewarm at best. That was... weird.  Underneath all his ranting about how the Phantom Thieves weren't being talked about was a very important message. No one was really caring about the heinous things Shido had done. That's what Akira got out of this whole conversation. He didn't give a damn about the Phantom Thieves being recognized. He wanted the whole world to be outraged that such a criminal was left to walk around and ruin people's lives for so long. He was sure people were just shocked by it, but right now all he could do, again, was wait.

Akira changed quickly and decided he needed to rest, giving his phone one more quick glance over to see if Iwai had messaged him. Nothing. How irritating.

"Well the case is closed." He looked at Morgana who was staring at him intently.

"You got the bad guy, there are no shackles on you anymore."

It took everything in him not to laugh out loud. It bubbled in his gut and died in his throat. He covered it with a cough.

His friend didn't notice. He was rambling now, as he did when he was pretending to be profound to cover his insecurities. 

"It may be time to end our deal." 

"What... are you talking about?" End? Their deal? 

"I won't leave immediately, but if I stay here I won't recall anything. I'm a bit... envious of you, all this time and I still don't know anything about myself. If only..."

What a joke. What an absolute joke. He didn't understand a damn thing about himself. He didn't know why everything was rubbing him wrong, like sandpaper on his skin.  He didn't understand why Akechi's death had affected him like this, why he was dreaming about him, why he was so desperate to know everything about him. He didn't understand why he was so important, and why he thought about him all the time now. He didn't get it, he didn't understand why the thought of Akechi made him touch himself to the point of blinding pleasure. It was as if…

As if any certainty he had about his own mind had sunk with that ship. 

In a way, he lost himself. In a way, the shackles that held him were tighter than ever before. In a way... his rehabilitation had failed. He was lost in this prison of a world and he had no chance of getting out of this. 

And yet he had to carry on.

But he understood Morgana. Morgana had always been with him since the beginning. He understood his frustrations and his pain of not knowing himself. He was experiencing it too. Only in reverse, a fool hung by his feet.

"If only... I could find out what was in the depths of Mementos..." Morgana trailed off and something became unrooted in Akira at the sadness emitted from him. He sounded so small and fragile, like that promise he made to Akechi. Morgana was relying on others, just like he was.

"We'll get there you know..." Akira whispered. "The depths... we'll find out." 

Morgana peered up at him and shook his head. "It's fine. You should get some rest, school tomorrow." He deflected and curled up in the bed. Akira didn't fight him and fell asleep quickly after, the third night in a row that Akechi didn't visit him in his slumber. 

He woke to his alarm for the first time in what felt like years. Racking his brain on the previous night he closed his eyes, wishing that he understood why he hadn’t been dreaming of spider-lilies and ghosts. Maybe Akechi was mad at him...Quietly he got dressed and sat back on the bed, Morgana now awake and ready to go as well. 

"Well, it's been awhile, how do you feel?"

Terrible. More than anywhere he hated going to school. He never got used to people whispering about him, but it was something he had to do. 

"I'm happy to be back." He lied with ease and soon they were off. The trains were crowded as usual, the chattering of Shido's confession was... surprisingly not the only hot topic of conversation. The Phantom Thieves were sprinkled into discussions he eavesdropped on and the public opinion seemed to be everywhere. Some called Shido a criminal but almost seemed like they were willing to excuse his behavior because the Phantom Thieves weren't real. Or that the leader of the Phantom Thieves committed suicide and they couldn't be trusted because obviously the video calling card was faked. 

It was the first time he had ever heard someone talk about his alleged suicide. It sent chills down his spine. 

"What about Akechi-kun? Where is he during all this nonsense?" He heard a disgruntled sounding salaryman ask.

"That's a good point, where is he? He's been radio silent for weeks now. Shouldn't he have some sort of opinion on this matter?"

"Nah, whatever he was just the newest celebrity fad."

"Akira." He heard Morgana in his ear and he jumped a bit at how close he was to him... even though he knew he was there.

"You okay?" His friend asked.

Akira didn't realize he was shaking until just then.

He wanted to punch them. He wanted to yell at them and tell them how wrong they were about him. How dare they talk about the detective in that way? He groomed himself for the general public, they loved him one moment but the next he was just some fad people clung to.

He was a real person, with real ambitions and life. To hear him be discussed like that made him sick.

They weren't shutting up either.

"I heard that he got doxxed."

"What? Really?"

"Yeah he got all of his information leaked online, and he was involved in some scandal." The woman the man was talking to laughed and waved her hand. "He ran away from the spotlight with his tail between his legs like some dog."

Akira shoved his way to the center of the train car in a blind fury. His heart was racing in his ears, but not loud enough to block out the incessant bullshit these people were spouting.

"Akira!" Morgana yelped but he paid him no mind. All he could see now were the two in front of him, gossiping about something they didn't understand. 

They both looked at him as he approached them. He didn't know what to say, no words were coherently making sense in the anger that was surging through him.

"You don't know a damn thing." His voice quivered, letting that rage wash over him and embracing it.

The man just eyed him and turned back to his conversation.

"I said." His voice raised a bit louder. He was making a scene and he didn't care. "You don't know a damn thing so stop spreading lies."

The corners of his vision were turning white when Morgana stuck a claw in his back and dragged  it down his shoulder blade. 

"Akira!" He hissed loudly. "Back down, are you trying to get yourself in trouble again on your first day of school?" 

"Why don't you mind your own business, kid. We're having a conversation that doesn't involve the opinion of a high schooler." The woman cut him off. "I suggest you go run along to school and keep your nose out of the business of adults." 

Akira endured Morgana's claws for a few seconds longer, long enough to retort. At least this, at least this he could do. Until he saw his reflection in the glass as they went through a tunnel. He hardly recognized himself. The person he was looking at was wild and tense. His face was contorted by  physical rage that he didn't even look like Kurusu Akira. Sensibility hit him like a truck and the inner voice of reason that had been dormant until this point was screaming at him, reminding him of where he was and that he was on parole still.

That made him back off instantly. His shoulders slumped, his head low. Shame replaced anger and he mumbled some sort of apology before making his way back towards the doors with hardly any reaction from the adults he almost yelled at.

"What the hell was that?" Morgana finally unlatched his claws from Akira's back and caused him to wince. 

"Sorry..." He mumbled, fixing his bangs out of habit and endured Morgana's scolding for the rest of the trip to school.

"I'm just stressed out, I guess. It won't happen again." He said for the seventh time before he saw Ann and Ryuji walking ahead of him. He didn't call out the them though, just followed. It was for the best they didn't know what just happened in a moment of weakness.

He was still winding down from the surge of emotions in the morning well around lunch time. Being informed that exams were happening the very next day did nothing to aid his feelings of restlessness. It was almost as if he was on a cloud very far away, looking down at himself and laughing at his struggles. He deserved it really.

 

Akira was at least happy to see Kawakami again. She seemed like she was doing much better now she wasn't being extorted for money. She was... much more bouncy. Like all the weight had been lifted off of her and she lit a match to watch it burn away. He longed for that.

He was jotting down notes when Ryuji sent a text to everyone about the weird disconnect between the media coverage and Shido's public confession of his crimes. It was... weird. He had only heard mixed things this morning but nothing was really damning him for the illegal and horrible things he admitted to doing. They all agreed to meet at Leblanc after school for a study session, as well. It came as a small relief to him and he hoped he wouldn't slow them down anymore.

The ride home was quiet, he kept to himself and tried hard not to listen to the murmur of the crowds, just on the off chance they mentioned lies about Akechi again. Morgana was keeping a wary eye on him as well. He really screwed up.

Futaba decided to provide him some company as he sat in Leblanc, pouring over Ann’s notes. Luckily her handwriting was neat but he noticed that she missed a few details in her overall note taking process. This was evident in the small doodles of flowers and her… he assumed. Also what looked like Makoto. All these little sketches decorated the margins of her writing and it made him smile a bit. He was happy for them. It wasn’t like he was so wrapped up in his own issues that he couldn’t tell the mood between them had changed recently. It seemed lost on the other boys in the group, especially on Morgana but he didn’t feel it was his business to try to clarify. 

He substituted Makoto’s notes on the same subject to fill in the blanks. Luckily for him, she took more thorough notice of information, though it didn’t line up with all the content Ann was talking about. He barely noticed when his friends arrived as well. It was only when they started chatting that he looked up from his papers. 

After they settled in, it was mainly quiet. Akira had just about finished copying when his hand started to get sore. He rubbed his eyes under his glasses and looked up at Makoto as she began to talk.

“All that information should be on the test, right Ann?”

Ann leaned back in the booth and looked over at Makoto, who was sitting besides her. 

“Uh-huh, I think so… You can just fill us all in on the rest, right?” Her voice wavered with hope. 

Then everyone was looking at her in the same way, Makoto was going to save them.

It left a bitter taste on his tongue but he ignored it. Feeling petty about something this trivial wasn’t going to get him anywhere.

The brunette nodded and glanced over her papers in front of her.

“Is it… really that bad?” Haru whispered to no one. Everyone was hanging onto Makoto’s every word like it was gospel.

“This is everyday for them.” Yusuke answered her and leaned back in his chair. He looked absolutely bored, having suffered through his exams last week and just there for moral support. Akira had glanced at him a few times to see him sketching lazily. He was happy they were all here.

“I’m not too worried about you, Akira. Your grades are good but you’ve missed so much class… so what exactly are you most concerned about? We’ll start with that.”

Akira sighed and looked over his own writing. “Japanese, probably…” He had questions about a few subjects but he found this is where Ann and Makoto’s information differed the most.

“Japanese huh? What did we learn again?” Ann pondered and tapped her lips. 

“Oh! Crows! Crows are black so…”

_ Crows. _

The air was kicked out of his lungs, his throat constricted. Everything around him was blurred and distorted. The conversation around him felt fuzzy and bubbled in his ears. Every word irritated his skin.

“The kanji for bird but the line representing the eye is missing.”

He could barely understand, Makoto’s lips were moving too slowly and her words much too fast. They swayed and sank into him, buried deep into his bones and-

Just like that he was breathing again. He covered his hand with his mouth, forcing himself to swallow the small contents of his stomach back down his throat.

The faint sound of a question signaled him to look at his best friend beside him. The words came to him like they were spoken underwater. 

He just nodded along with whatever they were talking about, but the conversation was lost on him. Their words crumbled along the wayside of his mind which was only concentrating on crows. Crow.

Fate was fucking with him. Of all subjects to be brought up…

He took a quick survey of the facial expressions of those around him and they were all down, looking at books and notes still. Studying. He wiped a bead of sweat off his neck and scratched at it. 

Akira managed to pull together some mask of resolve and copied their actions until he had calmed down and soon they were gone again. 

He was thankful they had left. He was still shaken up. Why did that affect him so badly?

He only barely realized that Sojiro was talking to him about school. 

“How is it treating you to be back?”

“Ah, same as always you know.”

Sojiro regarded him with a small smile and chatted briefly to him about his probation ending soon but his concentration was interrupted by the group conversation. He apologized to his guardian and skimmed over everyone’s concerns about Shido being prosecuted.

Just wait to see what happened.

He teeth ground together in frustration but tried to play it off. It didn’t feel like he had ‘saved Japan’. Not by a long shot. All the emotions he ran through today exhausted him, like he just ran a marathon through every floor of Mementos.

His phone buzzed in his hand, sure it was Mishima asking him why he avoided him after school today but the name on the text made him almost drop his phone.

His heart pulsated in his chest, heat rushing to his limbs to escape him in a cold shiver of sweat.

 

**INCOMING MAIL - MUNAHISA IWAI**

 

[19:42] Come to the shop.

 

He wasn’t even sure if Sojiro said anything to him after that point.

“Morgana,” He said abruptly. “Can you stay up in the room?” His friend narrowed his eyes and let out a suspicious huff. He had been acting weird today, he needed to play it cool.

“Why’s that?” The cat asked cautiously.

“I…” His mind went blank and filled his mouth with the first excuse to come to him. “I’m going to see a girl.” He lied. “She just messaged me.” 

He could see the realization dawn on both Morgana and Sojiro’s face. He almost felt embarrassed for them.

“It… It’s isn’t Ann-dono… is it?” 

Akira shook his head, wondering when Morgana was ever going to realize the way that Ann looked at Makoto. But his friend was relieved for now and smiled as widely as a cat could.

“Then go! Be a gentleman. I’ll keep Leblanc safe. But we need to talk when you get back about what happened earlier.”

“What, about this morning? Okay, we can talk about it when I come back.” He laughed and helped Morgana jump out of his bag. He didn’t even care at this point about Morgana scolding him for the hundredth time today. He caught Sojiro staring at him, sure that his farce didn’t slide past his caretaker.

“Wish me luck, Boss!” He was practically giddy. Sojiro just nodded at him.

“Yeah… good luck with that.”

He knew at that point Sojiro was more skeptical than Morgana had been all day, but he didn’t dwell on it. He practically ran out the door, the lightness in his steps made him feel like he was almost floating.

He was going to get them back. All the tiredness he accumulated during the course of the day dissolved into the cold evening air.

 

**OUTGOING MAIL**

 

[19:58] I’m on my way now.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for continuing to read. I really appreciate all the art that has spurred from this fic so far and conversations people have had with me about this piece. I have marked the fic with unknown chapters because my outline is constantly changing and there's still a long way to go with what I have planned in this story.
> 
> My twitter is @chromiekins


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always for all of your comments! I appreciate every single one of them. I'd also like to make a shout out to menthechocolat for betaing and always listening to me and eyrdamun for being an absolute blessing. Also thanks to my wife who has still had to consistently listen to me yammer on and on. 
> 
> Author notes at the end!

Akira didn’t realize he forgot a scarf until well after he was at his transfer. It was only when he saw a man putting a bright red one around what he assumed was his girlfriend that he noticed the chill in the air was actually making him shiver.

But he could hardly care right now, his blood was racing, his heart hammering away at his rib cage. It was enough to keep him warm, the flush staining his cheeks more from excitement than the bite of winter.

Iwai did not message him back, but the man was one of few words. He suspected he was always so abrupt over text because he didn't want his phone to be hacked. Or something. For being so well connected, the man sure was paranoid. Well, maybe that's why he was so paranoid. He'd have to ask at some point, a small list of conversation points to have with his confidant in the future. He had those of everyone, just for the sake of keeping them talking to him. It was easier to relate to people when having them talk about themselves and he just prompted questions. But right now he was seizing charge of the situation, no power to be gained from this interaction, no dicey dealings or wandering around Shibuya at night meeting Yakuza. The only thing he would get out of this would be the one thing that healed him. Finally something was going right for him. 

The train ride had never been this long before. His leg bounced against the metal flooring with an irregular rhythm. The thought that he'd get so excited about buying cheap plastic toys was never one that occurred to him in his life. He wasn’t the type for collecting things but the sentimental value of these were worth the misery he had been through in the last few weeks. At least this way, he could hold something Akechi held. Maybe if he did so, he'd get an answer, some sort of epiphany would dawn on him. He didn't know what, nor did he care. Whatever it was, was going to be better than the pure listlessness he had been experiencing in the last month.

He gnawed on his lip, the inner bottom left corner. The old habit was one he had back home that he thought he kicked when he came here. For years the inside of his mouth would ache with the constant sting of having sank his teeth in for too long and too hard. He chalked it up to the stress of day to day but hadn't noticed the raw feeling in his mouth in almost a year. He only caught that he was biting it when the automated voice came over the loudspeaker to announce that they were three stops away from Shibuya. Akira ran his tongue over the irritation and focused his mind on the very real situation instead.

Soon he'd be holding precious items in his unworthy hands. He could barely keep the wild grin off his face. Maybe he would be able discern something from the toys' presence, something new about the person who once owned them. Maybe he would be the only one who’d notice some secret thing Akechi hid in them. Only him. The possibility took the grim demeanor that had been haunting his aura for the last month and all but erased it completely. Nothing could mar his high right now. It was like the shackles that had been weighing him down unlocked and fell off to the ground beside him. It was liberating. This was the key to everything, to every little problem that followed him like a hazy cloud of fog.  Then in that dream, he could reach out and touch Akechi without him dissolving into a plume of smoke. If he did that, if he could just touch him, then he would get answers. He knew he would. Somewhere deep inside of him was this ability to make a connection to him, he had done it before, he could do it again. If he could reach him. He would pick those petals of the lilies that wrapped themselves through Akechi's hair, delicately strip them away to show that, even in death, Akechi wasn't going to be abandoned. Not anymore. Not ever again.

No maybes and what-ifs diminished the future that was blooming before his eyes. 

He almost missed his stop, busy thinking about where he would put the weapons once they were in his possession. He'd want to display them, on his shelf where the flyer Akechi gave him was. Well, where the flyer he stole from his apartment last week was. There was no need to beat himself up about it though, not anymore. No, this was much more important than all that. Any sins or questionable activities he had done in trying to obtain the truth about Akechi Goro would be forgiven now. He would forgive himself, Akechi would forgive him for selling the weapons in the first place, for breaking into his apartment, for using his coat. For leaving his body on that ship that sank into icy waters. He'd forgive him for all of it.

So yes, out on his shelf, proud and center would be where he would set them up. Even if the rest of his friends asked how he got them back, he would be upfront and tell them. He'd apologize for keeping them in the dark about his feelings, he'd be able to explain himself to them and ask for their forgiveness as well. They would talk it all out because he'd finally be able to understand them himself. Once he got his hold something tangible.... surely he'd understand finally why everything had been spiraling into a sea of feelings run amuck.

He'd go to Genki Sushi afterwards to celebrate. The coupon was in his school bag and it was still early in the evening. He could even bring back some tuna for Morgana.

Akira practically jogged out of the station, almost tripping up a flight of stairs in the process. He drew some attention but by the time he registered the stares of strangers, he was already well past them. This was nothing like a Palace.  He didn't have to be clever here, he didn't have to be wary. Fate was going to give him what he needed to survive. The oppressing atmosphere that clogged the air of Shibuya was actually crisp and light tonight. He knew it was due to the excitement that was bubbling in his veins, but finally, finally he felt... free. What he would do to turn to Akechi and tell him, to help him get there too. What he would give for a second chance to make it right. But this would do. This would have to do. It was an all or nothing bet, and Akira almost had a royal flush. Just one ace, one ace would do. 

He pushed through the throng of people, it was busy for a Monday night but he eventually was able to make it to the familiar back alley. He could hardly feel his limbs anymore, just a tingle of needles stabbing into his fingertips. The only sound that registered was the bell of the heavy Untouchables door that greeted him as he entered. 

He took a deep breath, drawing a card, praying for the ace to show itself to him. A royal flush, the answer to his problems, the need he craved so intensely. All or nothing was a risky bet but, he was all out of other options and the odds were in his favor.

Akira's gray eyes flickered to Iwai who greeted him in his normal fashion. He approached the counter with no intention to beat around the bush about this. Surveying the older man's expression, he observed a glimpse of a smile that sent his heart soaring even higher than it was before. It was difficult to see in the florescent light that flickered above them but he could see it. Nothing else mattered, the world could crumple away around him and he wouldn’t care.

He had them. That smile said everything, as minuscule as it was, he had won. Akira had won.

An ace of hearts.

Iwai stood up and let out a sigh, the smile that had pushed at the corners of his mouth now nonexistent in the change of position. 

"Look kid, I'm sorry, I tried but the guy isn't interested in selling them back."

A three of spades.

Iwai’s lips were moving but no words were coming out.

The words hit him all at once, sinking slowly into his ears like someone stabbed a knife into them and twisted. Shock had settled over his tensed muscles that eased him down into a pit of grim that happily held him once more. The shackles ate into his wrists, heavy and cold until his bones threatened to break. It was breathtaking, how the nerves in his fingers that just a few minutes ago only twitched from anticipation were now burning holes in his veins. 

His voice came out in a choked gasp but said nothing, breaking from the dense tar of despair that corroded his lungs. It was that moment that Kurusu Akira collapsed internally from the pressure of the storm that surged inside him. It was only then that he fully acknowledged just how bad it was.

And he had only acknowledged it because Iwai's face contorted into a grimace that he had never seen on the man when he spoke.

"What the hell do you mean, you can't get them back?" Whoever spoke was not Joker and not Akira. Whoever was speaking was lacing their words with malice that not once tainted his words ever in his life. Whoever it was that was speaking through him, he was a mouthpiece to the bitter anger that unsettled the air between him and his confidant.

"Exactly what I said, I can't get them back. The owner isn't interested. He likes the pieces and wants to keep them."

His neck itched and he obliged to his impulse and scratched at it under his uniform.

"So now what?" The voice so foreign to him asked as he raked his nail over the small scar on his neck over and over again.

"What do you mean, now what? That's it. I can't do anything else for you." There was regret in Iwai's voice, it mimicked the way his body hung now, snagged and low, his eyes now level to Akira's.

"I have to get them back." He was bargaining now, the rage in his voice tapered back to the dullest of whispers. His hand was retracted from the itch when Iwai reached across the glass counter to pull it back from the blotchy mess he was creating. 

"No can do, I'm sorry."

He gnawed at the bottom left corner of his lip, the force of his teeth almost tearing through the tender area. Akira glanced around the shop, anywhere but Iwai, like he would find the weapons hiding here and his friend was just playing a prank on him.

He didn't see them. Why didn’t he  _ see  _ them? He was getting desperate, panicked. 

"You don't understand. You  _ don't _ get it. I  _ need them."  _ His words punctured the warm air of the store with a steady staccato. It was then that Iwai let go of his hand and let out a sigh. His hope was fading far quicker than it had appeared. Fate was toying with him once again.

"I don't know why you want them back that badly, but I tried and that's that. End of discussion, sorry.”

Desperately he was looking for a way in, a shining light in a void.

"What's his name?" Akira murmured, trying to pull the shredded pieces of his composure back together but the cracks in his mask were too great now.

“Why do you want to know that?” He missed the growing tension in Iwai’s words. It was a mistake, he didn’t pay attention. 

“Because I can get them back if I know the name!” 

It would be easy, it would be so easy.

This was his last shot.

"I think you need to leave, Kurusu-" The older man started before Akira's fist met the glass counter display with a resonating thud. His knuckles blossomed with a dull ache that throbbed up to his wrist.

"What. Is. His. Name?" He could follow the guy around and approach him, he could figure out his dirty secrets and go to Mementos. He was sure he had some, everyone had something to hide. He would find it out, he would exact mercy on whoever this piece of shit was who wouldn't give him back the very key to his survival back. He would make them grovel on their knees and beg for forgiveness for taking Akechi away from him, he would put a gun to their Shadow's head and force him to give the weapons back. He would-

"Leave now."

He looked up at Iwai, the man now squared up and tall in comparison to himself. The heat of a threat made his body seize.

"I'm not leaving without it."

"I don't know why you're doing this. You need to leave, before I remove you. Go cool your head and come talk to me when you're calmer."

"I said I-“

"Okay I'm done here." Iwai moved around the counter of the store, his hand rough on Akira's back as he motioned him out. The scrapped remanence of his resolve crumbled as soon as his foot landed a forced step towards the door.

Hope was gone, stolen away from him through tightly gripped fingers. It wasn’t enough, nothing was enough. Akechi faded like smoke into the sky, but still he tried to clench onto it, fingernails were dug into his skin of his palm when he was escorted out of Untouchables. It was amusing to think that he still had some sort of chance to make things right. The blinding rage that mounted in him had destroyed any chance of closure that he had tethered around him to keep himself afloat. The night air chilled him to the bone and yet he didn't shiver. There was no point. He had capsized, he was lost.

Akechi would have laughed…

Possibly.

He would never know for sure.

Like he would have ever known... Like toys would have been the godsend answer to all of his issues. Like Akechi would have forgiven him. He was the one who sold them out of spite before, why would buying them back mean anything to the person who once owned them? 

Akechi was dead. The dead can’t forgive… the dead can’t talk.

He had to let go.

But Akira didn't want to. He was no closer to answering the lingering question of 'why' than he was when he first learned Akechi was going to betray them... him. Not once did he ever find any sort of connection why the thought of Akechi betraying him affected him so badly. Why his death was doing this to him. Not once did he figure out why his death taunted and toyed with him constantly. It'd be much easier to forget. So much easier to just put him out of his mind forever, like everyone else seemed to have.

But he couldn't.

He would have to but… he  _ couldn’t _ imagine living the rest of his life with this hanging around his neck, threatening to tug just hard enough to cut his breathing off from the life he selfishly lived. He was lost and alone in this vast jail he found himself in, building himself a cage to watch those around him living, while he fixated on the dead.

The glowing blue light from the door of the Velvet Room caught his attention… Caroline was staring at him, a smirk on her face as she leaned on the door frame. He had forgotten everything in the world in those few minutes he was outside, trying to assembled a broken heart laden with sorrow that it almost surprised him that she seemed to be watching.

"Well inmate." She jeered, prodding the air in his direction. "You going to come try to be useful?"

He wasn't useful. He wasn't special. He wasn't savable. But some stubborn part of him was still dedicated to journey for answers… which was why Akira started walking towards the attendant of  the Velvet Room. This was the last road he could walk down to try to glue this puzzle together, even if none of the pieces were fitting right. Another bet, another layer of hell to wrap around his heart, another one of Fate’s dirty plays and yet… 

The soft aria swallowed the worthless prisoner with barely a word from him.

Akira's eyes opened and scanned the same cell that housed him in the Velvet Room, now just a small cell within a cell in this world that jailed him. The chains on his wrists had a nice heft to them, physical, or... cognitive he guessed, manifestations of the weight of despair was validating to him. No where was safe to him anymore. No where felt comfortable. At least now he was in his proper role of prisoner with the garb to match.

The twins jeered at him through the bars. Maybe if he just ignored their taunts and doubts about his worth, he could imagine that Akechi was there instead. Or maybe he was just beyond his sight, in a cell directly across from his. He peered up at the numbers above the doors for the first time since coming here, a silver 8 was the only thing that adorned the opposite cell.

The justice arcana… right? How ironic. But that couldn’t have been a coincidence… maybe. 

“What’s wrong, inmate?” Caroline kicked the bars of the cell, hoping to attract his attention he was sure. He wished she wouldn’t have asked. It wasn’t that she cared really, though their bond had grown strong as well even though he was a passive participant in their pondering conversations. No, Caroline just hated it when he didn’t have anything to do there and wasted their time. Though… from what he could gather, they were only there to assist him in this bizarre journey. But today, his business didn’t rest with them. He was grasping at straws and one more let down may just break him completely. But… Igor was someone he could trust with this… if anyone had answers about Akechi, it was him, right? 

Though his jailers were unkind and excellent at talking without saying anything useful, they did have information. So in his mind, he could demand answers of both Igor and the twins. It didn't seem that Igor was as omnipotent as he let himself seem to be. After all, he didn't know about the true identity of the mysterious Black Mask, just that another wild card stood opposite him. But it couldn’t hurt to try right now, it was a shot in the dark but at least it was a shot.

“Tell us what you want.” Justine’s soft voice broke through his muddled thoughts and he let out a deep sigh, finally looking at the long nosed man who sat behind the desk in the very center of the room.

“I want answers.” He stood up from the hard slab bed beneath him and moved closer to the bars of his cell.

The wardens stole glances at each other before Justine let out a labored sigh and rested her hand on her hip in obvious irritation.

“You don’t get to demand things here, know your place. Everything we’ve done for you has been out of the kindness our Master gives you.”

“Let him speak.” Igor’s eerie baritone rumbled through the lecture of one of the girls. He rested his chin in his hand and stared at Akira with such intensity it almost made him want to look away. But he didn’t. He held his gaze.

“Feh, you should be grateful our Master is so accommodating to trash like you.” Caroline hissed before the two parted out of the way of the cell. 

“Well… what is troubling you?”

It was a shorter list of what wasn’t troubling him but he decided to start with the very basics.

“Akechi Goro…” The name on his tongue stung like thorns piercing his gums and lips. “The black mask, he had the same ability as me. Why?”

Igor didn’t look phased by the question in the slightest. He gave a mere nod of acknowledgement.

“To that question, I do not have an answer.”

Akira bit back a laugh. 

“Why not?”

“Because he was not a prisoner here, as you are. He was a tool to use along the way of your rehabilitation.” 

Akira’s fist met the bar of his cell that echoed through the other empty rooms of the prison, adding a ache to his already swelling knuckles. His eyes flashed in anger, the corners of his vision narrowing on Igor as he saw splotches of red and black speckle his sight. Anger. Pure anger. His jaw clenched, grinding his teeth together to bite back the hostile words he was threatened to spill.

Igor raised an eyebrow at him but that was all.   

_ “It would be wise to keep your composure. Nothing you seek will be gained through frivolous means. You’ve already seen the consequences of such weakness.” _

Arsène’s soothing voice quelled the heat of wrath that hit him in waves. Quiet but powerful. He knew it was true, he knew he couldn’t show his emotions, not here, not now.

He steadied himself, retracting his fist with difficulty and forced it back by his side. Caroline smacked the same bar with her baton and hotly demanded him not to lose his cool again or she would kick him out.

Focus. Just focus.

He took in a staggered breath and held it, exhaling slowly and tried again.

“Akechi was not a tool.” That was… not what he intended to say, but he didn’t regret making that clarification. “You obviously knew of him, how could you have known he was using the Metaverse and Palaces like he was if you didn’t know his identity?” Moreover, why didn’t Igor tell him all of this. He would have died if they hadn’t have caught onto his plan, right? If he knew beforehand he could have stopped it… he could have done something.

Igor hummed with a wisp of a humorous chuckle and shook his head.

“I can obtain that information without an identity. My connection to that world is far different from your own, prisoner. The other wild card did not awaken in my guidance. Look at him as an obstacle you eliminated. Your rehabilitation is well on its way now, unobstructed by such distracting events.”

A shudder ran up Akira’s spine. Was it really such an extreme situation? One of those only one person can survive tropes that was common in manga and videogames. That hardly seemed fair… that was not justice. 

“It could have worked…” He rested his head on the bars, finally breaking Igor’s constant stare to look down at the ground. “Both of us being alive…” He didn’t ask, it was more of a… general wonderment, one he wished Igor hadn’t answered so easily.

“No, it wouldn’t have.” The other man leaned back in his chair and watched him as Akira met his gaze once more.

“The journey of your integration back into society is coming to a close.” He explained, his timber low and patient. “You are well on your way now. I look forward to seeing the end of your story, prisoner.”

“If you have no further business here, we ask that you please leave for your world.” 

“And don’t come back unless you actually have something meaningful to do here.” 

And just as quickly as the entered the cell, the room around him became fuzzy and blurred, a rumbling laugh from Igor mixed in with the distant sounds of the calming song that permeated the stale air of the Velvet Room cells.

The dingy alley of Shibuya greeted him as he slumped against one of the walls closer to the main street and let his body drag down it, the brick scrapping his back through his uniform. He took a deep breath, until it hurt to fill his lungs up anymore, and let it out slowly in the cold air of the night. Another deep breath, and let it out. Stubbornly he wiped away frustrated tears welling at his eyes under his glasses. 

“I’m so sorry Akechi…” He mumbled into his hand. He needed to forget him. He needed to let go now, for real. There was nothing to be gained for either of them if he kept clutching onto this ghost of this man. It’d take time but he’d move on. He’d have to. The resolution was dull and flimsy in his chest but with it Akira found the strength to stand and made his way back to the subway. He massaged his knuckles, thankful that him punching an iron bar did not actually cause more damage to his fingers. Ashamed, he decided now would be best to shoot Iwai a text, apologizing for his earlier behavior. Owning up to being so unreasonable just solidified that he had lost control over himself. It was one of the most difficult text messages he ever had to write.

After doing so, he put his phone in his empty bag and a surge of guilt spread over his chest, rooting itself in his spine and made his stomach clench uncomfortably. Empty. Just an hour ago he had the weight of the world lifted off of him… it was a glorious half an hour. It was then that he remembered he hadn’t eaten… that his exams were tomorrow as well. He was supposed to go have Genki Sushi and bring Morgana back some. He was supposed to open up and understand his frustrated feelings… but no clarity came to him. He was defeated and empty-handed. He was going to go so far as to execute an idea that occurred him to in passing last week… if that wasn’t desperation, he didn’t know what was.

He would just have to manage with these feelings until they wore off. He was still young… he’d get over it. He'd get over it.

Akira walked backed to the station, his feet weighed down, his mind listless once again. Muscle memory was his friend at this point because he didn't remember the train ride back. Nothing really mattered right now. Leblanc was closed up by the time he reached the door and it seemed like an entire lifetime had past when he reached his room, Morgana waiting for him. He was already tucked into a huddle on the warmest spot on his bed, his blue eyes wide as Akira kicked off his shoes.

"Akira?" He asked, though obviously there was no one else he could be. 

"I'm home." He answered, his voice hollow and weak. He changed his clothes quickly and slumped on the mattress.

"How did it go?" Morgana questioned, stretching out his legs to reposition himself and make room for Akira to lay down.

"Hm?"

"You know, the girl."

Girl? It took a second to put two and two together, remembering his lie about why he had to leave Leblanc so suddenly.

"Ah... it..." Wasn't real. "I got rejected. I don't want to talk about it."

Things were supposed to be different, a painful reminder that tonight was going to go much differently had he actually gotten what he wished for. He was supposed to have superficial things in his hands to show his teammate. He was supposed to have opened up, tell Morgana everything that he had been feeling. Shido's confession was supposed to liberate him... Akechi's weapons were supposed to be the ticket to clearing up his confusion.

In reality, he was bound and gagged. In reality, he was as empty as his bag that he put beside his bed.

"Really? I'm surprised." Morgana huffed and curled up beside Akira's waist, in an obvious show of attempted comfort. Akira was grateful for it.

He laughed softly and shook his head. "Just wasn't meant to be.”

Wasn’t meant to be. Fate had made that exceedingly clear.

"I think anyone would be lucky to have you, though."

He respectfully disagreed in his head but just hummed his thanks and rolled over.

Akira tossed a few times, his eyes wide but rimmed with exhaustion. He didn't know how much time had ticked by when he shifted again.

"Can't sleep?" his friend's voice interrupted the white noise buzzing in his head, muddy dark thoughts of how anyone could follow him when he was such a failure.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to keep you up." He only had two pills from Takemi left, and he was sure he'd have worse nights to come. Besides, any pill he ingested put him into a dreamless sleep, and he needed to see Akechi again. He needed to say good bye.

"No it's fine. You know, I heard counting sheep is a great way to fall asleep. Futaba-chan told me. I don’t know if it works though…”  Morgana gave a very audible yawn and Akira felt him shift against his back.

He smiled grimly and nodded. "Yeah, I heard that too..." His uncle told him that once when he was a kid, but he said it only brought him nightmares... it was some childish thing he never felt need to indulge in but...

Nightmares were what he needed right now so he gave it a chance. It pushed his mind elsewhere and sleep overtook him. 

This time, he was not in the cell but outside, looking in.

Akechi wasn't paying him any mind, he sat with his back to the side of the cell, fidgeting with the spray of flowers growing out of his head and tangling around his neck from the roots in his spine. The light was harsh and washed him out but he could still make out the soft pastels of sweet pea against the array of white chrysanthemums that christened his skin and hair. A dry cracked smile was visible from behind cold iron bars and all Akira wanted desperately was to get him out. But instead, he sank to his knees in front of him. Akechi still had not acknowledged him, picking out rooted blossoms and throwing them to the side. 

"Akechi..." Akira whispered. His grief was thinly veiled as he spoke. It was only then that the other boy turned his head completely to him, half of his face gone and overgrown with beautiful blooms of all colors, sizes and kinds. Blue, violet, gold, deep red, pinks and purples all tossed together, overgrown and unmanaged. There were no loud laughs, no cruel words, just silence as a response to his inquiry before turning his head back to continue trying to untangle stems of ivy growing around him.

Even in his subconscious state, though aware of just how unreal all this was, this was difficult. His words dried in his mouth and his tongue withered as he formed the syllables he dreaded saying the most.

"I have... to say goodbye." 

A chuckle was what answered him and Akira brought his gaze up to the prisoner who shook his head, a beautiful wreath that rained down petals with the motion. It was breathtaking to watch, even like this, he was stunning.

"Have to? You want to. You and everyone else." He still didn't meet Akira's eyes, and really Akira was not worthy of his full attention after all. He promised himself before that he would never let Akechi be abandoned again, and yet… here he was, breaking that promise.

He choked and swallowed his heart that almost fled his mouth before offer a meek "I'm sorry." And hung his head in shame.

"Why? Everyone else has left me. You're no different than them." Akechi pulled his knees up to his chest, the thin vines now wrapping around his position, holding him there. Akechi pressed his head back against the wall, facing away from Akira.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Leave. You left the ship, this should be easier. Just wake up."

He should. He should just stand up and walk away. But, something held him back. He had come to say goodbye and had done so, he shouldn't...

Akira reached out his hand through the bars of the cell, slowly, to make sure he didn't fade away again.

He didn't...

His hand touched the other's. Akechi didn't respond when he grabbed it, now holding it tightly in his grasp.

"Why are you doing this?" The brunette asked, barely above a whisper.

Why? He didn't know why. He couldn’t bring himself to leave. So he didn’t. 

"I wanted to... talk to you just a little bit more."

"You said you wanted me to haunt you... was that just a lie?"

"No... I..." He swallowed, his eyes tempted to close, but afraid of the consequences of that happening. "Please can we talk, that's all I want…" To hear his voice again, knowing that, here, in his imagination, Akechi was alive was soothing.

He let himself indulge, just this once... for the last time. Another lie, he could stay like this forever if allowed. If only he’d never wake up. His fingers tangled with Akechi's the best he could from this angle.

The detective littered with flowers just stared down at their hands, like he was expecting something to happen but nothing did. Did he expect himself to disappear too?  Akira didn’t say anything as Akechi seemed to take a moment to ponder a topic of conversation. 

"Do you know where this place is?" Akechi asked him, as he returned the pressure to Akira's hand with a gentle squeeze. It seemed the brunette was going to let him talk for a bit, he was grateful for it. His heart skipped a few beats at least. The hand that held his was one he longed to hold months ago. Akira relaxed against the bars, wishing desperately like he could break him out. Wishing he could touch this hand in the real world, just once. Just once.

"A dream obviously, right?" A dream he'd have to wake up from. A dream he would keep visiting. The guilt was too much for him. 

The grip of Akechi's hands tightened suddenly, fingertips stabbing in with malice, the nails digging deeply into his skin, piercing it until rivulets of blood streamed down his hand. Akira flinched but kept his grip, scared of what would happen if he let go.

“You really think that? You're more of an idiot than I thought you were." His voice was cold enough to wilt all the flowers that dusted his exposed skin. His one visible russet eye closed as his lips mouthed a voiceless "good bye" before he crumbled into a heap of soil and brown, decaying petals that shriveled and cracked.

Akira's heart then stopped.

And that's when he woke up, his eyes shot open and he inhaled deeply. It was still dark out, right before the sunrise according to his phone, which he immediately turned on the flashlight to look at his hand that had been holding Akechi's just seconds ago.

No marks. He sat up, scooting himself out from under Morgana who was sleeping soundly beside him. The wall felt cool against his damp back and made him shudder from the contact. He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm and turned off his flashlight app to help him calm down in the silence of darkness. 

What was that...

The flowers he recognized from the times he had worked after school at the shop. Together they meant too many things, things that didn't make sense when paired together. They were contradictory and awkwardly placed in his dream, the colors bled together and followed no pattern that he could tell. Akira rubbed his hand gingerly, trying to make sense of the conversation with a frown hugging the corners of his mouth. 

That place... huh? 

He had visited the same dreamscape several times in the last week or so, always the same jail cell, always the same lighting and feeling of dread surrounding him. But this time he was the one outside... he didn't understand. The cell room looked nothing like the Velvet Room, it looked nothing of the interrogation room nor the police station where he had his first mugshots taken. It was... incredibly different. Everything felt grand, large and spacious except for the one cell he saw and had been in. 

But it was a dream... a nightmare. He'd have to tell his uncle about his counting sheep experience at some point but... 

Something nagged at the back of his mind. Akechi's words floating around in his head as he got up to go get clean before his alarm went off for school.

More than the accusation that Akira was going to leave him, the bitter hollow sounds of that chuckle that made his skin crawl, was that lingering question.

He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what about it bothered him, the mental image of Akechi calling him an idiot was nothing new, and certainly truthful to a degree. His mind kept wandering back to the room, to the flowers, to the bars that contained a beautiful, lonely person he wanted to save more than anything. It was too late, of course it was too late, so why did it bother him so much still? Especially after making the decision to start healing, to start recovering, to start coping with the fact that Akechi was dead. Time heals wounds but Akira was hemorrhaging.

Ryuji met him in the morning after he enduring his first train ride of nothing but murmurs and whispers of Shido. He seemed to have noticed it too. No one was really sure if Shido was guilty.

That would change after he got arrested. It would have to change, right? 

The public's response to his confession sucked....

He hardly remembered writing his name on his exam before it was over and he was headed home for the day to study more. He woke up in his chair the next morning, his neck stiff from the position he slumped into.

Again the day seemed to go by in a blur and before he knew it, he was back at his desk. He tapped his pencil before twirling it in his fingers as he read the same line of Japanese history at least twelve times until he realized he had skimmed those words for the last half an hour at least. Distracted. Completely distracted. Between the rumors of Shido flying around like the confession hadn’t been a big deal and his dream, he couldn't absorb any of Makoto's notes. A few text came in to draw his attention away from the blank page that glared at him. He let out a sigh of relief when Iwai's name was in that list, telling him not to worry about what happened the other day. How embarrassing.

Morgana idly talked to him, flicking his tail in boredom, but his chatting was enough to keep him from thinking deeply about the place that held the remanence of Akechi. But soon it was time to sleep again, and he couldn't stop wondering about it. It was his subconscious, nothing about that place was real, the Akechi he kept seeing wasn't real.

And yet...

And yet...

He bit the inside of his cheek before he sat up in bed and grabbed his phone, careful not to wake his friend who had settled down in his usual spot next to the heater.

His blood was rushing to his face as he rapidly skimmed through his applications.

That place wasn't real, it didn't exist, but it did in his subconscious. It did in his mind.

His breath was heavy as it fogged up the cold screen.

This made sense to him. Finally something did.

He clicked the MetaNav app, anticipation tingling in his fingers. This could be the answer. Akira almost tripped down the stairs to the cafe, making sure not to wake Morgana up with the voice that always greeted the Phantom Thieves when they hit a keyword. 

The screen blinked at him, awaiting command.

"Kurusu Akira..." He held his breath.

Palaces were things created from people's minds and distorted desires. It made complete sense that he would have one. Or at least be a hit on the app. 

But... he was a Persona user... right?

It wouldn't work, according to Morgana.

 

[No Results]

 

He laughed at himself and shook his head. Of course it didn't work. Morgana had told him that. Besides, what honestly would he have done to justify such a distortion. All he did was try to pick up the pieces of Akechi's life that were left behind. All he did was try to be a good leader and help his confidants as best he could. Nothing like Kamoshida or Kaneshiro... or any of them. He hadn't made anyone else's lives miserable for his own gain.

 

[No Results]

 

He clenched his phone tightly, his teeth aching from how tightly they were clasped. He took hissing breathes through them, deliberate and steady.

Just wishful thinking. If he did have a Palace.... Akechi would be there. It was... a comforting thought, and a terrifying one. If only he didn't have this ability that landed him in the seat of leader in the first place. He was starting to feel resentful. It was not an emotion he was used to. Someone was playing with him. He could tell now more than ever before and he wanted to find whoever it was and shoot them in the head, by any means necessary. 

Akira quietly walked back upstairs and took one of Takemi's pills before falling into another dreamless night's sleep.

The last day of exams, it was Makoto who greeted him at the station after another miserable train ride of people becoming more vocal about supporting Shido in his rightful role of Prime Minister. Obviously she had heard the chatter too because she sounded just as worried as Ann did the day before, only about the case, not school.

"My sister hasn't been home in a couple of days..."

It was worrisome. But her faith in her sister's work outshone her anxiety about it. He trusted her assurance and focused his energy on the final day of test taking. Akira had to take guesses on the rest of his exams and didn't know quite how to feel about his answers, even though Morgana tried to help him quietly. It didn't matter anyway.

All he wanted to do was go home and sleep and never talk to anyone ever again.

It was overwhelming how fast the days passed, soon he wouldn't even be in Tokyo anymore, but at home, with no one around. Just a little while longer.

It'd be better that way. Akira flicked through his phone, seeing several more texts than the ones he left untouched but couldn't be bothered with any of them. He decided to go home and rest. He felt Sojiro's eyes follow him and he mumbled a soft greeting before going up to his room to lay down on his bed. He wasn't hungry, he had no energy to do anything, let alone eat. 

He wanted badly to just close his eyes and never wake up. Never had to be a Phantom Thief again, never had to let anyone down ever again. He just wanted to be in the cell with Akechi and touch the beautiful flowers and talk to him. That's all he wanted in this entire world.

He woke up in the early night to his phone going off. Mishima was desperately texting him about how wrong things were with the website. He played along. He noticed that no one was holding Shido accountable for his actions, many sweeping it under the rug and still wanting him to be Prime Minister. Something fishy was going on but he didn't have enough concentration to focus on it and fell right back asleep.

He dreamt of metal, industrial looking walls boxing him in and trapping him before those walls crept closer until he was being crushed from all sides. No ghost of Akechi, not a hint or scent of beautiful flowers or fresh soil. 

The morning of the 23rd, Makoto requested they all meet up after school in the Shibuya Station, the nostalgic old hideout. The smell of the bakery from across the corridor made him instinctually look around but immediately felt foolish for even trying. He was quiet the entire time, only vaguely listening in on their conversation about the Phantom Thieves and how the government was making it very clear that the group used events to their advantage. Another complication to the mess. All around them were discussions of how Shido was going to make a great Prime Minister. His blood was boiling. If only he had shot Shido in the head instead.

This was too much. When Makoto informed them that her sister lost the case later in Leblanc, he couldn't help but laugh softly to himself. Of course. Of course she did. None of his promises were going be kept after all. He was the one leading them, he was supposed to be the one with the answers to tricky situations but he could barely wrap his head around this. He had failed them as a leader and as a friend. Every single person who was with him right now had every reason to look down on him. He had not proved his worth to a one of them. 

So when Niijima made her request of them, to change the general public in exchange for adults to do the right thing from there on out... he agreed to appease them, but it was something he was wary of. Adults made this world rotten to begin with. If they destroyed the Metaverse... wouldn't those same adults still carry on doing crimes? Wouldn't they still exploit the young and impressionable? The only difference was, was that they wouldn’t be able to stop them… they wouldn’t be able to make these assholes confess using their own mouth. That didn't settle right with him. Before the Phantom Thieves, all these crimes happened and people like Madarame, Kaneshiro and Shido still got away with it. The police were never close to solving their crimes or even discovering them, so how would 'respectable adults' find the crimes the Phantom Thieves had? They wouldn't. He was an example of how the justice system failed the youth of the nation. All of them were.

With everyone's eyes on him, calling him leader he felt a bit bitter that he couldn't voice his true opinions. It didn't feel right but... if this was the only way to get Shido... he swallow the bitter pill and accepted it. He would never get the chance to redeem his past actions that hurt his teammates. The nagging feeling at the back of his brain told him that they would cease to be friends after this as well. The distance too great to maintain even the strongest bonds. But this was all he could do. So he accepted it. No other option was viable. Shido had to be brought to justice somehow.

He had to keep at least one promise, right? What would he do if the situation arose to where they could continue though... he never wanted to be in a world where what happened to any of his friends could happen again without some sort of power to check it. The police weren’t enough, if they were, all the pain they had endured wouldn’t have happened. If there was just another way to keep being the Phantom Thieves, none of these corrupt people could get away with committing heinous crimes.His wistful hopes of retirement would go away. But was... that really a bad thing? Trusting the world to corrupt adults in hopes that they would bring justice would be something both he and Akechi wanted, in theory,  but they stood at opposite ends of the spectrum on now to do it. Surely he would want the law to intervene with crimes and bring those responsible to the correct punishment. But... Akechi had been the one going around the law for the last two years, orchestrating mental shut downs and killing people... so was that really what he believed? 

No… rotten adults caused this. If it hadn’t been for them… Akechi would still be with them today. This was all their fault… but still there was nothing he could do. He was truly powerless.

As his bond with Morgana grew that night, he let himself dwell in the realms of possibilities. Morgana was so earnest with him, calling him special when in reality, he was not. He knew this about himself and yet…

Maybe.

It was too much to think about, he swallowed down hypotheticals to focus on the very real possibility that the next day may change the world and he would lose everything. He was already as lonely as he could be, it was time to just accept fate and change the world for the better, sacrificing himself as a lamb to the world.

_ Liar _

Akira woke up in the Velvet Room, listening to Igor ramble about the depths of man’s desires and how ruin was upon them. He was probably right. Akira was already ruined though. From the room where the twins passed questioning looks as their Master damned humanity, he stepped into an entirely different world.

He stared at the cell from the outside, the heap of soil and wilted petals had begun to spring a beautiful stock of a simple red spider lily. He clenched his fist tightly. So this was goodbye then?

He turned away from the cell, his eyes narrowed and jaw set as the clothes he donned ripped away in breaths of smoke and fire, a dark jacket that almost skimmed his heeled shoes replacing them. He walked in strides, a tug on the hem of his red gloves and an adjustment his mask with a small, sad smile on his lips.

All he could do now was cope. 

And down the rabbit hole to the depths of Mementos to steal the treasure of the public, despite the apprehension that loomed over him. Despite the growing regret and agitation of what exactly his future held.

The last job of the Phantom Thieves commenced, with their leader the weakest he had ever been. And yet he took pieces of his mask that had been broken and ruptured and pressed them into his face, the face of a man who's only mission right now was to make the world right.

"It's showtime." Joker grinned as they began to descend.

And Kurusu Akira wept in the dark, damning humanity and the pain it caused him with a coy smile of confidence painted on his lips.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From here on out we finally are getting into the premise of this fic. Finally.  
> I would like to state that the Ace of Hearts (Also known as the Ace of Cups in tarot) means spiritual fulfillment and healing.  
> The Three of Spades (Also known as the Three of Swords in tarot) represents rejection, heartbreak, sadness, separation and grief.  
> White Chrysanthemum are a typical funeral flower in Japan and Sweet Pea symbolism separation or 'good bye'. 
> 
> The next chapter should be out soon. Sorry for the delay, I was finishing a class.
> 
> Please feel free to comment!
> 
> my twitter is @chromiekins


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally at the premise that started this fic. Please read the updated tags! They are very important and I don't want to offend anyone with the content of this chapter!
> 
> Thanks as always to my beta menthechocolat for reading this thing 500 times and giving me encouragement and also to eyrdamun who has been a constant source of inspiration. I'm glad we share the same brand of angst. 
> 
> My wife has been so amazing, encouraging me as well to keep writing. Thank you, I will always appreciate everything you've done for me.
> 
> So many people have come to me about this fic and I'm kinda of blown away by the response. Every single one of you has made this possible and I hope it holds up to your expectations. I will say this is the hardest chapter I had to write, simply due to all the canon events that happen but I hope you enjoy!

There was something about the oppressive atmosphere of Mementos that was hard to ignore. A combination of the heat of the stagnant air and the dark tones that dimly illuminated the twists and turns of the pathways, it was always exhausting to come down here. Everyone’s awareness had to be heightened which is why Joker was glad he made coffee so often. They all needed it down here, even Skull, though he complained about it every time he had to drink a sip.

Oh well… it was the last time.

Even with Oracle’s abilities to guide them, it was still draining his teammates fast making it all the way down to the bottom. It would have been more exhausting had there been Shadows to fight. Halfway through, Queen decided to give his eyes a break and drive the rest of the way down. His teammates had been incredibly quiet next to him, but Joker kept a keen watch on them. Ever since their decision yesterday, his friends had been distracted and the usually chatty Mona bus was… silent. Only the occasional squeal of brakes and purr of Mona’s engine were heard. Joker was sure it was nerves and he couldn’t help but emulate the anxious feeling prickling at his chest. He didn’t even agree with this call of action, if this was even possible.

When he woke up this morning to get ready for this, their biggest heist, the leader of the Phantom Thieves knew that this was incredibly… wrong. Erasing the Metaverse, if it could be done, meant that no one who was hurting others would come to justice unless the police found them suspicious of crimes in the beginning… so victims would just keep being that, victims. It didn’t settle right with his breakfast as he thought over all the ramifications. But it was too late to be questioning that now, right? Everyone had agreed, their decision was unanimous.

The door that was previously locked opened without much of a grand display.

“Hah!” Skull cheered as the entryway appeared.

“Right like you did something to help that.” Oracle scoffed and rolled her eyes.

It was a lucky break that they didn’t have Shadows getting in the way of the descent. Their moods were already apprehensive and any battles would have worn on their resolve.

“Whatever, Oracle.” The blonde regarded them with a showy grin. “I was expecting it to be a bigger reveal or something, though.”

Joker’s eyes traveled down to Mona who was beside him now. It was time… he was sure he was nervous… they would find answers to his origin down here. For that, it was with it to him to go along with this plan. Stepping down onto the new platform, a massive room greeted them. Archways of dark metal twisted around windows of crimson light that pulsated slowly in the pace of a heartbeat.

On either side of the thieves were stations where trains were docked, unmoving. This is where all the people were going, huh? The depths. For what reason…?

The far wall looked like a massive door that was both creepy and intimidating in look and size. Like a giant throat that would eat them whole as it opened without a moment’s hesitation.

“I guess the MetaNav was right about the depths opening.” Mona said in wonderment.

“Wait a minute.” Oracle said, training her eyes on the entryway. “That’s weird.”

Everyone’s attention was on her now. “Uh… it seems like we can get in fine, but the door only opens one way, so nothing inside would be able to get out once the door closed.”

Joker frowned, thinking about the implications of such a thing when Noir voiced his thoughts.

Whatever went in, all the people on the trains docked to either side of them… they chose to go into whatever waited on the other side of that door. His curiosity was piqued to say the least. There must be something down there that was too irresistible to stay away from.

He lead the party towards the entryway, and closed his eyes as he stepped over the threshold.

Veins were the first thing he thought of when they walked in. They twisted from the ceiling and ran down over them to a gaping hole in the center of the area they just ventured into. He was surprised Fox didn’t frame his fingers together to gain perspective on the sight and try to remember it so he could capture it later. It was… eerily beautiful.

Beside him Panther was shaking, though she tried to hide it, but her uncertainty was evident in her voice. There was a growing shuffle of doubt and right now he needed to comfort her, motivate his team-

As he opened his mouth, Queen beat him to the punch. She offered a small smile and told them to push on before she ushered them to the next area, her resolve finding a way through to quell their growing fears.

She really was a natural at this… if things had been different, he would have wondered why their roles weren’t reversed. She had the mental strength and intelligence to do this. She was quick on her feet and never seemed to struggle with knowing the right thing to say or do… unlike him. He gave way to her, falling back from her lead.

The room was much different from before, it was almost like there was a concert or an event because it was teeming with shadowed figures. They were not paying attention to the group of thieves, instead had their gaze fixated on another door that seemed to be closed tightly.

None of them were posing a threat to their well-being though, they were largely ignored.

“We gotta get through these people.” He heard Oracle say aloud. Immediately he casted his third eye, the world growing dull and dark around him until he saw a ledge.

“This way.” He motioned with his hand for them to follow. A bitter taste lingered in his mouth. Was this really the only way he was useful to them anymore? If Queen had this ability… Well… soon he wouldn’t be useful to anyone anymore. None of them would be.

No. He needed to stop thinking this way.

Besides the intrusive thoughts that were clouding his confidence, he was actually doing really well, mentally speaking. Right now, what was important was getting through this. All these thoughts were bothersome. He needed to concentrate on keeping one foot in front of the other. He needed to focus on doing his best because it was a very real possibility someone could die down here. And he couldn’t live with himself if he had another person’s blood on his hands. Hell, he was barely coping with one person’s death…

The cells that surrounded them now were incredibly different than any kind he had seen before, be it in reality or in dream. His heart ached, hoping somewhere in the back of his mind Akechi would be here. Somehow.

He really wasn’t ready to let go, he wasn’t, no matter how many times he lied to himself about it.

It was a stupid wish he couldn’t throw away.

The murmur of prisoners behind the bars made him look around. He felt uncomfortable just standing here as his teammates gathered information on what exactly this place was. This place held within its depths a system that granted desires. He could see why they would want to stay here then… everyone around them was whispering about how safe they felt. But that couldn’t be right, right?

Well… he understood. He felt the safest being in a cell with Akechi staring him down, telling him exactly what he thought of him. Joker shuddered.

He lost track of the conversation, having caught that there was a dangerous criminal being held in a quarantine room somewhere beyond their point.

The exchange must not have held much more context because all of his teammates looked as confused as he felt.

“Which way? Mona?” Oracle asked, her voice soft as Mona did not answer her. From behind they heard footsteps all too late and Shadows that resembled guards ambushed them.

Luckily their excursions into Mementos and constant training meant the gang of thieves out powered them.

Giving one last glance around at the supposed Shadows that were prisoners in this place. Queen's guess seemed fitting, that the Shadows in chains were their human counterparts subconscious.

He saw Mona's ear twitch out of the corner of his eye and turned to him.

"I remember... being here." He looked frustrated, his arms crossed as he tried to recall past memories in vain.

They pressed forward, determined to find the Ruler of this Palace. After seeing so many in the last year, Joker had no doubts as to the structure of the depths of Mementos. This may just be the hardest challenge yet but...

Really nothing was harder than the Ark of the Elite... what he lost there was far more valuable than any Treasure contained in the bowels of the collective human unconscious. One that couldn't be defined by a Calling Card or a glimmer of gold. One he couldn't manage to steal away.

They cleared the next hurdle with relative ease, even with the tricky floor puzzles that they all figured out together. He was sure there would be other traps that lay in wait but for now it was one step at a time. It was easier to think that way, to concentrate on the smaller problems than to get overwhelmed by the bigger one that was ebbing away at his sense of justice.

When they all got to the next group of prisoners, it was Panther and Skull that spotted Kamoshida first.

Beside him, Fox murmured a formal greeting to his mentor only to quickly replace with a cold utterance of Madarame. Queen piped up, stating that Kaneshiro was here too.

Joker turned, his eyes desperately scanning the wall of prisoners around him, from shadowed face to shadowed face. His heart was thumping with anticipation when he heard Oracle ask about Okumura.

His gray eyes finally rested on Noir and his stomach pitted.

Softly she shook her head and sighed. "Father isn't around anymore..."

It was then that her gaze found his and he immediately looked away. She knew he was searching, he just wondered how much she knew. They had both been dealing with loss, right?

Joker didn't realize when Noir moved over to him, to stand beside him.

"Sorry...." Both Oracle and Joker spoke at the same time, Oracle being much louder than him and shame rushed to his face.

Noir shook her head and smiled sweetly. "No... it's okay. More importantly, look." She pointed to the cell ahead of them and Joker came face to face with Shido Masayoshi. That's when the world deadened to him, much like it had during the study session when nothing else mattered in the world but crows.

Now nothing else in the world mattered to him but putting a bullet in Shido's skull.

Words were flying around at him, sharp blades of revelation that meant nothing to him. He could sense the atmosphere around his teammates growing tense but the only thing that registered to him was the insatiable urge to lift his gun, take aim, and shoot. How would it sound after the shot pierced the air, pierced Shido's head. Would there be blood? He's never killed a Shadow before but the temptation weighted his finger with a desirable itch.

It would be so easy. So very easy. This he could pull off... a simple raising of his hand and-

He felt a grip on his wrist of his right hand. He jumped and whipped his head over to look at Noir, who lowered his hand that was gripping his pistol.

"It's okay..." She whispered, keeping her fingers coiled tightly around his gloved hand. He only now realized he was shaking. He was fortunate that they were in the back of the group... no one else saw his weakness but the girl who was dealing with her own grief. Humiliating. She didn't pull her weapon on the man who ruined her family.

Joker put his gun away and took a deep breath, sound finally returning to the way it was before, abrupt and much too loud for his liking.

Shido was speaking, in a somber tone that was meek and filled with sympathy. He wanted to vomit.

"Unfortunately Okumura isn't here with us... Nothing can be done for the dead."

Noir's grasp on his hand returned, her fingers digging in sharply.

"Yes, I know. Thank you for the details." She huffed without a breath of gratefulness. Joker gave her hand a squeeze of reassurance. It was all he could do now.

They learned this place was called the Prison of Regression and that it housed a powerful inmate in its depths. The only spark of interest in that was for Mona's sake. Maybe they'd find answers but, honestly, Joker wanted this done.

The guards that attacked them were just ants awaiting to be squashed under their feet. A minor inconvenience to their advances.

When Queen lead the group, Joker took a moment to fall back and look around once more. He scanned the confines of the jail and his line of sight landed on Shido. Another brick of bitter disappointment to add to his already heavy load.

"He's not here." The man told him.

Joker gritted his teeth and swallowed hard before trusting himself to speak.

"I know that."

Shido shook his head. "The thing I regret the most is-"

"I don't care." The anger in his voice made Shido fall silent, if only he would just fall dead.

"My only regret is not saving him from the shit you made him do." He continued, evening out his voice so that he didn't find his gun in his hand again.

"Joker." Noir called out as she peeked her head back in. "Joker, come on... it won't do any good."

She was right... it didn't.

He should have taken his shot before she stopped him.

Noir's eyes were trained on him as they began to catch up with the rest of the group. "You okay?" She asked. He stole a glance at her and offered a reassuring smile.

"Yeah I'm fine... sorry."

When did he become so good at lying.

His teammate nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer. Good thing she didn't ask him twice, he wouldn't have been able to keep it up...

"Come on, leader. Let's end this."

Despite the sorrow that was welling in his soul, he regarded her with a nod as he drowned in the words 'nothing can be done for the dead'.

Pressing onto the next area was more difficult for all of them, but especially him. That concentration he had been maintaining for the day was wavering now. But they couldn't stop, they were too deep now. The only result from this would be the erasing of Mementos or...

Well that would be the only outcome.

They regrouped after each fight, making sure they were all okay before they continued forward. Around them, scattered in several areas were Shadows jailed in individual cells with no desire to leave. This was frustrating all of them. It just heightened the team’s resolve while Joker found he couldn't care less about these people who threw away their drive and ambition. Those things led to pain. What he would give to have his suffering end... his mind to finally stop revolving around so many words that added up to overwhelming guilt that filled the emptiness inside him.

Nothing could be done for the dead.

Nothing could be done for him either.

"Joker!" Mona called out suddenly as the siren system went off and he felt a hit from behind slam him to the ground before he could react and the Shadow retreated to surround them. Fox was the quickest to get him, helping him up as both Queen and Noir took cover the holes in their defense line and assumed their positions.

"Thank you." He said as his friend steadied him on his feet.

"They were quiet, none of us heard them." The soft timber of Fox's reassurance met him with some difficulty. He didn't apologize, did he? Why was his friend comforting him? But he couldn't put too much thought into it as the Shadows before them materialized to surround his party. Three. It shouldn't be too difficult. But they had the upper-hand. He recognized this one in from one of his long sessions in the Velvet Room. It was of the Fool Arcana but right now that's all Joker remembered about it. It's body seemed to be male and painted with swirls of colors that made his eyes glazed for a few seconds before regaining his focus.

"I can't believe you guys let these losers sneak up on you. Pay attention Inari." Oracle scoffed from the air, Prometheus buzzing above them with gusto.

"You didn't sense them either, Oracle." Fox called back before taking his stance, his hand on his sword.

"Hmph. Well, let's destroy em!"

Immediately the creatures in front of them sent an attack their way. Each one sent a huge wave of energy at everyone, in brisk succession. It was harder to dodge but every one of them managed to regain their footing after each attack.

“Everyone okay?” The voice from above them brought his attention upwards to the ball of steel Oracle was barking orders from.

“Oh shit! Watch out! Another wave!”

What? It happened in a blink of an eye but he still managed to narrowly escape the miasma of darkness that lunged at him.

“Woah, good job, Joker!”

He didn’t have time to answer, he saw his opening. Inside his soul, a chain broke as he ripped off his mask, summoning White Rider from within and-

He held his mask in his hand, almost crushing it under the heft of his fingers. He couldn’t move. Why couldn’t he move?

Why did it even matter?

Fox picked up the missed opportunity, unleashing a wave of heat that blasted their foes back a few meters. Queen was giving Noir orders while he…

Stood there, staring at his mask. The mask of rebellion quivered in his grasp. He couldn’t do anything.

Because he was useless. There was no point in being here, in the depths of the collective human unconscious. He was slowing them down, he was worthless to the Phantom Thieves.

He wasn’t even doing this for a cause he believed in, because he was so pathetic that he couldn’t speak up for what he thought was right. From behind him he heard an amused chuckle and turned his head to face with a shadowy figure Akechi who was holding a gun to his head.

“You should have just submitted and died you know.”

His eyes widened.

“Akech-“

“Just do it. Give in, you’ll feel much better. The world would be better without someone as gutless as you.” The twist of his smirk drove a knife in his heart. It would be easier to just carve it out. It would be easier than doing this. His teammates could leave him here to rot in this prison. It was no different than the outside world. This world that held no future for a criminal… this world that would not save him as he had tried to do for it.

“Joker, what is going on?” Queen demanded as she planted herself in front of him, warding off a blow of the Shadow’s attack from hitting him.

He didn’t look to her, his eyes on Akechi and only Akechi as the tip of his gun was prodded his forehead.

“I miss you…” He whispered solemnly and to his quiet confession the brunette laughed.

“Then join me.”

“Joker! Oracle! What is going on!”

“Queen! Stop him!”

Just carve it out, make it stop hurting so much. This pain he had been enduring was too heavy, too heavy. He didn’t feel the sting of his blade puncturing his chest until Queen ripped his hand away, sliding the sharp edge over the flesh of his chest, across his sternum as he was knocked down to the ground, the wind leaving his lung with the impact. His friend was on top of him, straddling his thighs with her shins and wrestled the blood stained weapon out of his reach and threw it away before she grabbed his wrists.

“Joker!” She yelled desperately.

Why was she trying so hard? It would be easier to just let him die. This was what the world wanted, their heads on sticks right? Let fate take over and just kill him. Let it win. He reached for the knife that was just beyond the range of his trembling fingers. He could feel it, leaking out of him, his despair staining his vest and coat. He coughed as Queen’s grip on him tightened on his struggling arms.

“Please, pleas-“ He begged softly.

“Akira, stop moving!” Queen’s dark eyes behind her metal helmet glared down at him.

Beside him Akechi stooped down, pushing the weapon closer to his hand. He could almost reach it. Almost.

“Hurry up, I’m getting impatient.” He cooed, lightly tapping the handle of the blade with a the gentlest of touches. “Come on, Joker, join me in hell won’t you?” His voice dripped in venomous temptation that he wanted to partake in, to drink until his consciousness faded with dying breath. He tried to dislodge Queen but she wouldn’t let go.

Oracle was frantically giving Fox and Noir back up support behind them and it was a matter of moments until Panther, Skull and Mona rushed to Queen to help.

“What the frick happened?” He heard Skull’s question to Queen and she ignored him.

“Panther get a relax gel from my belt, please!”

“Shit he is bleeding bad! We didn’t even see, it happened so fast!”

“That doesn’t matter! Panther break it and use it!”

He struggled against Queen’s grip weakly as Panther rubbed cooling ointment behind his ears which instantly calmed him down instantly and Akechi once again faded from his sight. Why…?

That’s when the pain caught up to him, a burning, throbbing heat hit him all at once. He finally met Queen’s eyes again and she let out a deep sigh of relief.

“This seems to look worse than it is, let’s try to get away where we can dress the wound properly.” She turned her head to her friends and pushed herself off of him.

“Fox can you carry him?”

“Indeed I can.” He flinched as the taller thief lifted him.

“T-there’s a safe room around here!” He heard Oracle squeak and flitted off to find the space, everyone right behind her.

“Just hold still….” Noir whispered as she threaded a needle. He flinched at the sight of it but the soothing smell from the Relax Gel was still affecting him. He wished they had let him be. The girl tending to him was insistent on closing the knife cut to minimize the scarring before giving him another topical treatment to force the skin back together. Alarms rang in his mind, urging him to shove her away, anything but a needle but his limbs didn’t obey. Needles meant worse thing were going to follow. Every stitch that penetrated his skin was a hit to the face, a kick to the stomach, a jamming of a heel against his thigh with no mercy. Noir didn’t look at his face as she continued. All he could do was muster was a weak protest but when she finished he finally could breathe again. His arms finally listened to the frantic fear that was bouncing around his mind and he wiped his eyes, the smell of the gel lulling him into a relaxed state as his friend tied a knot and clipped the thread. His whole body ached and all he wanted to do was sleep…

He was lucky his knife didn’t get too far, otherwise it would have… well the gel was definitely calming his mind now. It all happened so fast and he was thankful they noticed he wasn’t attacking. He got hit with an attack that caused despair, according to Queen.

“Sorry…” He got sloppy. It was really a lot worse than it looked but it was embarrassing that it even happened.

“No, it’s fine. It was no one’s fault.” She smiled up at him. He wondered if she really believed that. Between this and what happened back at the cells when he lined up his shot at Shido, he couldn’t help but wonder what she thought of him. He took a moment to survey the room. Everyone was really apprehensive now, and it was evident in ringing silence. The only sound that broke it was Oracle crying in a corner of the room with Mona and Fox comforting her. He swallowed his guilt as Noir gave him the medicine so he could smear it on his chest that was still smudged with blood. His fingers shook as he touched the cut.

“We’ll wait a bit for you to recover but we need to move on…” The soft command Queen uttered was enough to break some of the tension lingering in the air. “Take a ten minute break everyone…”

“I’m- I’m so sorry, Joker! I didn’t know.” Oracle hiccuped and wiped her eyes.

“It’s not your fault.” He said softly, knowing if it was anyone’s fault, it was his. He should have been more alert.

“See I told you.” Fox rubbed her shoulder as a fresh wave of tears fell from her eyes.

A round of agreements came from his friends, issuing no fault in attempts to calm her. They weren’t going to make any progress with their navigator that upset anyhow.

“What happened, dude?” Skull asked, sitting down next to him. “Like when did you get hit?”

He opened his mouth… but closed it again quickly. When did he get hit?

“I don’t know.”

The blonde frowned at him and cocked his head. “Ya serious? It always feels weird to me. You didn’t get any, like, sudden depressing thoughts and shit?”

Joker thought about it a bit more and scowled. But, no it didn’t feel any different than he had been feeling recently. He decided lying about it was the best course of action right now. It eased some of his anxiety to do that… as much as he hated to admit it to himself. It would have been so easy to finish the job. So easy. If he had just stabbed himself a bit harder and had his knife been just the slightest bit sharper…

Had Akechi goaded him just a tiny bit more…

“Yeah… yeah it just happened so fast is all. We just have to be careful. I’m sorry I worried everyone.”

There wouldn’t be another error. He would make sure of it. Joker motioned for Oracle to come over and gave her shoulder a squeeze, much like Fox had. “I’m fine, see? You noticed in time, you and Queen both did.”

She sniffled and nodded, wiping at her eyes. “Okay. I won’t make a mistake again leader!” She should have just lectured him but he brushed that aside. It wasn’t the time or the place.

Joker grinned at her. “I trust you. Thank you Futaba.”

She perked up immediately when he said her name. Good. Seemed he was useful for something. Even if that something was easing the blame of his friend’s conscious when the mistake was entirely his own.

“Yes!” Her hands found her hips and she regarded him with an equally huge grin, her eyes still teeming with unshed tears but it eased the tension in the room.

“Shall we keep going?” He asked them all, letting out a much held in sigh of relief as they all agreed with enthusiasm. He wished he shared it, but they had a long way to go.

When they found the Holy Grail, he wasn’t surprised by the results of the fight. Humanity longed to be controlled, wasn’t that why people subscribed to fate and destiny? Wasn’t that why horoscopes and tarot cards were so popular? If it was written in the stars or creased into the palms of their hands, they couldn’t fight it. It was easier to submit to a higher power. It was easier to be told how to think and how to feel. As wrong as that felt, he knew it was true.

The Phantom Thieves did that themselves, changing the hearts of people to meet their own agenda, their own view of the way the world worked. Taking fate into their own hands to craft a world in which the wrongdoers were punished and the victims found relief was the thieves’ own way of succumbing to a higher power. They were the higher power. In a way, they were just as much of a false god as this one casted in gaudy gold. They didn’t deny the strength given to them by the Persona they fought with, they just automatically felt that using them was the right thing to do. Their own justice was just a mock of fate as well, right?

The criminals they forced to confess did not have the free will to do so on their own any longer. That’s the hearts they stole from disgusting trash. Because of that the Phantom Thieves had done good in the world that otherwise would have gone unchecked by the corrupt adults that didn’t want to think or feel for themselves. It was a vicious circle. A rotten adult did something to hurt others for their own selfishness because they didn’t care about the consequences, the Phantom Thieves forced them to repent, and those people went back here to this prison to continue to not want to care. Their confessions were due to a guilty conscious that only benefited themselves. Their guilt was a noose they could hang themselves on and he would love to sit back and watch their swaying bodies dance in the wind. Had justice prevailed.

The world would carry on with its corruption, people wanting to be led like sheep to the slaughter. Those who beheaded those sheep, those victims, will continue to go unchecked and their axes sharpened by society that does not care. But did they ever care? Isn’t this always the state of the world? One jolt of interest into one new thing, only to be replaced by another new thing? Nothing mattered to anyone, no justice, no awareness…. nothing. The adults in the world not doing as much as they could for others was due to the very nature of humanity. Why were the Phantom Thieves trying to kill themselves to bring enlightenment? Why did they risk their lives in this hell in Mementos instead of just continuing to bring justice in the only way that proved correct every time?

Who cared if they had to play god to do it.

With the erasing of Mementos, had it been successful, wouldn’t have done anything. They were stupid to believe that. He understood why it was optimistic to approach this as a grand send off, a way to hand back the world to responsible members of society. But there were too many variables and too many irresponsible adults. It wasn’t something to neatly wrap and put a bow on. If only he had spoken up, if only he had voiced his concerns. If only he had saved Akechi. If only it had been someone besides him leading the way. They wouldn’t have had to suffer. None of his friends would have had to disappear into black specks and vanish into the air.

He watched every single one of his friends leave him in the walkway of Shibuya, among crowds that could not see them. The public had failed them, and he failed the entire world. None of them deserved to die. None of them.

Only his sins should be counted, they should not have been punished for his crimes. His woes were his own cross to bear, and yet, somehow, everyone else had suffered for his weak resolve. He should have said something, anything-

But it was far too late.

“Is this… my fault? Because I brought… you all there?” He heard Morgana whimper out beside him, his friend was tense and distressed. No. No it wasn’t, this was his own fault.

He reached for Morgana, his fingers almost completely transparent now.

“No. No it’s not your fault.” Akira barely found the strength to comfort him and knew it didn’t matter. None of his words mattered to anyone anymore. Nothing could save them.

“I’m… I’m sorry. The mission’s a failure.” He watched his friend’s last bit of power give out before he dissolved into a plume of ash.

They were erased from everyone’s cognitions now… he could tell. The Holy Grail was not lying, they were deemed expendable by the very people they were trying to protect. No one believed in them anymore. He couldn’t blame them really… this was what they wanted.

He rolled over and reached up to the sky that was filled with a dusty red smoke and giant, grotesque bones jutting out of the earth, pointing to the sky. Everything hurt so much but it would be over soon. Soon. Maybe he’d see Akechi again in hell, like he said. Maybe that Holy Grail would grant him at least that wish. He smiled softly as despair finally overtook him, the red of the sky now filtering through his skin as he broke into pieces and died.

When he opened his eyes again, he jolted into a sitting position. What?

He died, right? He looked down at his hands to see chains clamping into his wrists. His chest still hurt from when his knife dug into his skin, trying to rip out his heart.

Akira was alive… that means that everyone else was too, right?

“In the end, your rehabilitation was not carried through, it appears I have overestimated you.”

Akira stood up and walked to the front of his cell, staring at the three occupants. What was going on?

“Where are my teammates?” He demanded, his eyes narrowed on the man sitting at the desk before him. They had to be alive. They had to be. He could feel them, somewhere beneath the miasma of shame and guilt that weighed him down, he could tell they were alive.

Igor merely chuckled in response before the twin wardens began to berate him for his failures. He failed…

“Humans are more apathetic and more foolish than I had thought them to be. The world will soon see its ruin.”

“Ruin?”

“You have lost the game. You have failed to bring about change to the world as a Trickster. The rules of the game state that the defeated must pay a price. Therefore your life is forfeit.”

Gray eyes widened in surprise but really… it was what he deserved, right? He couldn’t do anything in the end and this was justice… as much as his self preservation fought against his confinements, he knew deep down he deserved to die. The still stinging cut on his chest was evidence of that. However, what really startled him was the reactions of the twin wardens in front of him. Akira didn’t say anything as they peddled excuses that sounded more half-assed than his agreement to erase Mementos.

“Grant that man a swift death.” Igor commanded, that eerie grin never faltered for a moment. The twins still seemed apprehensive about this outcome. Why?

When they fought him, he found himself again unable to move. It was like he was despairing all over again. He fell to his knees, panting hard from the pain he could no longer endure when he heard a voice, soft like the chime that hung in his window during summer… and as clear as the bells of Leblanc that let Sojiro know when he returned.

His curiosity got the better of him as he fused both Caroline and Justine together, grimacing at the act that was more suited for him than anyone else. This was just too much, it made his stomach growl in disgust as the guillotine blade fell. The misty blue smoke of the Velvet Room produced a small girl he had never seen before but felt like he had known forever.

Lavenza spoke in riddles he could barely comprehend. She was torn apart and became Caroline and Justine?

He vaguely remembered her call for help, once maybe in a dream somewhere. She begged him to save them. Save them. Who could he save? He couldn’t save the world, he couldn’t save Akechi. He couldn’t save himself.

Why was everyone putting all this faith in him?

“I believe in you, I knew you would make it this far. And this scoundrel who soiled my Master’s name!” She turned and he followed her motion, looking back at Igor who stood before them.

“Your lies will not work any longer.”

Igor’s smile merely widened, his bloodshot eyes locking on Joker’s.

“The game isn’t over yet…” The Velvet Room darkened into a deep crimson as the Master, Akira’s guide through this ordeal, floated above them, staring down like a predator circling his prey.

“Whether the human world is left as is or destroyed and rebuilt, it is all sport to me.”

“What… are you?” Joker asked, sure he already knew the answer.

There was a gnawing ache that climbed up his throat as he realized he was played with this whole time, the Holy Grail, no the manifestation of human desire guided him to this point of his life. This point where he could barely find the will to rebel. It was too much, it was too hopeless.

As the distorted voice jabbed at his pride, he couldn’t even bring himself to be angry. This was the way the world worked right? Even the Phantom Thieves couldn’t change that, with the powers of gods and legends adorning their faces as masks, they could not change the course of fate.

And yet…

The god extended his hand to him in the form of a deal.

“I shall grant you an opportunity to make a deal with me. Should you wish it, I shall return the world to its prior state.”

Prior state?

The girl beside him tensed and looked at him but his eyes remained squarely on the god before him, holding the most tempting fruit he craved.

That means that the Phantom Thieves could continue to do good in the world. Means that they could help victims the police could not… all at the cost of the free will that humans didn’t even want?

That means that they could carry on and he would be able to lead again, right? His friends would need him. He would have more chances, more opportunities to become the leader they wanted him to be. He could be the voice in the world for everyone who suffered. He could be the hero Akechi Goro needed. Joker had resolved himself to not making a mistake again. The world would always be rotten and filled with selfish humans, the least he could do was reach out and help those he could.

Even if that meant betraying his own feelings of sorrow, his own desire to want to settle down and retire… even if that meant giving into a new world order where his rebellion turned into a revolution. He would become the new order. He would sacrifice that for those he knew the world could not save. In that world, fate would toss the helpless aside to die at the hands of their abusers. And he could never live with himself if that happened. Especially if he had the opportunity to change it. He would not let anyone suffer like Akechi had, like he had, like they all had.

And only the Phantom Thieves could do that.

But it was then that Kurusu Akira, without a hint of hesitation in his voice, accepted the deal offered to him and Arsène faded from his mind. His wings of rebellion ripped through with spears and chained, bolted to the ground.

“You truly are a child of man, you could not even win against your own desires. Don’t be ashamed, I will grant that wish for you.”

A small smile hung on his lips and he simply nodded his head as Mementos reverted back to the depths of the underground. The world thrown back into the chaos it was before the Phantom Thieves ventured down to steal the Treasure of the public.

He would be their unwanted savior, he owed it to the world to repent for his mistakes. And he would spend the rest of his life begging for forgiveness. This was the only way he knew how. He would carry the pain of the damned so they may have a chance.

In that moment, Kurusu Akira remembered that he did not subscribe to fate, and he was going to show that to the world he shaped with his own dirty hands.

The reordering of the Phantom Thieves took place in Leblanc that very night. Everyone was exhausted but well enough for an emergency meeting. Morale was low, so he had to raise it. They had failed their mission but that just meant they needed to find another way. At least, that’s what he told them to bring their spirits up.

“I just don’t understand how this happened. Why did we lose?” Makoto asked quietly, as if her speaking in a louder voice would somehow break the hope that it wasn’t true.

“It was an uneven playing field.” Akira explained and sat down next to Morgana, who seemed to be taking this especially hard. His memories had returned and he seemed to understand the gravity of their situation.

“Even so, it seems so… surreal.” Yusuke interjected, staring directly at Akira after he got done telling his story of what happened. Akira couldn’t help but chuckle a little bit at his phrasing.

“Yeah… just a bit. But this is what we have to work with. Plan A didn’t pan out, so onto Plan B.” There was no Plan B. But that was fine, they had some time.

“Well the immediate issue is that The Phantom Thieves are going to be arrested, right? Shido is still going to Prime Minister, too?” Haru asked and Akira shook his head.

“Not if we take down those who surround Shido…” Makoto chimed in beside him. “I know we talked about Futaba finding his allies and that could take a while but do we have any other choice at this point?”

“I think it’s the only way…” Akira heard Morgana whisper and it took everything in him not to try to soothe his friend with a soft pet of his fur.

“I just don’t understand why it didn’t work… I’m so sorry.” The cat said with a solemn expression on his furry face and his ears pressed back against his head.

Ann smiled gently at him and reached down to pat his head. “Morgana, it’s okay… you can’t know everything. You’re being too hard on yourself. I think we all are…”

A general consensus of affirmation rumbled through the room.

“Defeat is never easy but… we still can try again, maybe later when we are stronger. But right now it’s smarter to focus on the immediate threat. But-“ Akira leaned back in his seat, scratching absently at his neck.

“I think we need to restructure ourselves to cover more ground.”

“Restructure? How?” All of their eyes were on him now. Their leader was finally stepping up to the challenge again, at long last.

“We need to split up our party. Say Futaba-chan-“ He saw her sit up straighter in her chair and couldn’t help but smile. “Finds some of these assholes, wouldn’t it be better if we broke up into smaller groups to quickly find them and change their hearts?”

They were all in-between a rock and a hard place so it was easy to push them to that decision. There was a growing excitement that resonated in his chest. This was easy, this was so easy. They needed him now, he wasn’t just some dead weight being dragged along for the formality of it. They genuinely needed his ideas and his input. They decided that night to take care of the imminent issue, it wasn’t a simple conclusion and Makoto was incredibly downtrodden that they had failed her sister’s request. Akira bit his tongue to keep himself from pointing out that her sister had let them down first. The Phantom Thieves trusted her with bringing Shido to justice, and once she met a roadblock, she handed the escalated problem right back to them. How like an adult. None of them could do what the Phantom Thieves could.

Regardless of his personal feelings towards the situation, he pushed them aside for the sake of his friends. None of them needed to know the gritty details of his ideal justice. None of them would know that it was him that made the decision on his own. If he had to carry the sins of the world that threatened his existence to shape a way for the innocents, so be it. It’s not like his life would have been worth anything anyway. He was too late for one person, he would never be put in that situation again, he would never let people suffer at the hands of the corrupt again. He was a thief, a simple man who stole the hearts of the distorted to give opportunity to the weak.

The thought made his smile grow wider while his heart grew heavier.

Throughout the next week, they started working nonstop. Futaba’s digging found information on a number of disgusting acts Shido was involved with. They all took turns, separated into groups of three each day with one designated leader. The groups rotated members so that one person was off each raid as well. Morgana had taken to helping Futaba at nights and while Akira missed his company, he knew it was probably for the best. He knew his friend was in good hands with her, they did wonders for trying to cheer each other up. Surprisingly, though, they all seemed to be doing well with the new schedule. As they approached New Year’s they had already sent out several dozen calling cards and taken down criminals both in Mementos and Palaces when they popped up.

On the last morning of their school break, Akira was sitting in Leblanc with Sojiro. Things started to feel a little more comfortable recently, as though Akira got used to the chains’ weight dragging him down all the time. He scratched at the fresh scar on his chest and shook his head as he listened to the news. Crime was decreasing, the Phantom Thieves just took down a major hospital director who was tied to Shido through endorsement and helped fund his campaign with the money he made off of trafficking children’s organs on the black market. This was starting to become a pretty average news report but that’s just how messed up the world was. Never once had he regretted his decision. After all, if he had denied the deal with the Holy Grail, wouldn’t this have continued? More innocent children suffering all for scraps and sold to the highest bidder? The police had no idea this was even happening, so who knows how long it would have continued.

He had been in the junkyard raid the day before and was still recovering from how exhausted his body was. They never cleared such a large Palace in one day but it was well worth it. It was extremely satisfying.

Sojiro had been a great support since they came back defeated a week ago. He had always been firm in his views and though he could tell they were disappointed, he didn’t stop offering words of advice to them. Akira was thankful for it. He was far more invested in his wellbeing than his own parents were, it seemed.

Maybe one day he’d take a look into their hearts to see why they just didn’t seem to care about him anymore. Maybe. The thought made him think about if they had Palaces themselves, probably some safe place where their troubled son couldn’t bother them anymore.

Akira sipped his coffee and looked over at the empty seat beside him and frowned. This was all for him after all, he couldn’t let another person suffer and die…

“You better not be getting yourself into more trouble, you’re tired enough as it is.” Sojiro’s lecture caught his attention and he offered a small nod before he washed the dishes he had used.

“Right, right, this new system is working out though.” He had made sure of it. On his off days, he found the police force that had been looking into the Phantom Thieves and took their Treasures one by one. It had been the longest day of his life, but well worth the ache in his body. Since then their arrest warrant had been removed from the system.

This was all working out so well… so well. He hadn’t won the war but this battle was enough. The only thing that would make him whole again was something he could never get back.

His eyes lingered on the spot as an idea began to circulate around in his head.

“I’m headed out!” Akira called out to his guardian and he grabbed his bag and headed to Shibuya. He wanted to test something…

Since they had been fighting, Akira noticed the absence of the manifestation of his rebellious spirit. He hadn’t been back to the Velvet Room but knew it was still around as he saw it in various places it usually occupied during the day and also in Palaces. Lavenza had stood outside, but it seemed that only he could still see her. She didn’t try to interact with him either and even though Morgana said he had been born inside of the Velvet Room, he didn’t seem to realize she was there. She was the only one who knew exactly how far he took it on Christmas Eve, and he intended to keep it that way. However, Arsène disappearing from his mind was something that bothered him. It was a vague memory that rose to the center of his thoughts and ebbed away before he realized it. There had to be a reason though…

Staring up at the screened broadcast in Shibuya Square, he heard conversations about the Phantom Thieves everywhere. They were still the talk of the town that tried to kill them a few days ago. Ironic that now, because of him, that was all everyone could talk about.

But still the circulating thoughts of the consequences of his decisions brought an itch to his fingers. He turned away from the crowd and pushed up his glasses, letting his hand drop to his neck and scratched it, easing the desire that burrowed into his soul.

If his persona was gone then…

It was worth a shot right?

After all, a wise, crabby old man told him once that grief could do worse things than desire. Well what about both grief and desire? He had come to terms with it. He let it drag him down and drown him. It was easier to submit than to fight. If he had one… even though he was a Persona User, even though it was supposed to be impossible-

Akechi would be there, right?

He threw away the world’s choice and made the decision for them. He threw away himself to make that decision. His heart raced against the scar that was still fresh on his chest. Was God offering a taste of forbidden fruit again? Because he hadn’t had enough yet. Not until he saw him again. He said a silent prayer as pulled out his phone, barely containing the smile on his lips as he tapped a familiar app.

“Kurusu Akira.” He said, loud and clear.

A soft ding met his ears, a heavenly, calm sound that soothed his soul.

“Shibuya.”

Another ding. He could hardly keep his laugh from escaping the grin that twisted with hope.

“Jailhouse.”

An automated voice sang to him as he shook his head in absolute disbelief. He laughed as the world around him distorted into rings of red as he met the entrance of a run down prison that reminded him of dreams that had not visited him since a single spider lily grew out of a pile of ash and soil behind cold steel bars. Before him his Palace stood, built on steel plates of despair and held together by hope that soldered his broken soul together.

And he couldn’t stop laughing as tears ran down his face to the point where he felt sick to his stomach. Finally… finally he had been rewarded. Finally, he could see him again. All he had to do was deny fate and make the world his own.

Finally he had been dealt his Ace of Hearts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Finally we cross the threshold!  
> The initial thought of this fic came upon the speculation of what would happen if Joker accepted the deal to put the world back to how it was. If you have not had a chance to watch the good ending, I reccomend it.  
> The class I'm taking has been making things come out quite a bit slower than I want but I'm excited this chapter is finally out!
> 
> I'm eager to hear your thoughts, thank you all so much again!
> 
> my twitter is @chromiekins


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I did make a mistake about the size of Akira’s Palace, thus changing it from Tokyo to Shibuya. Sorry about that. This chapter has the one scene that inspired this entire fic and as such I’ve been thinking about it A LOT. I have a small play list of mood music as Akira’s Palace Music so if you are interested, link is here! ((https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLMgHVNR1cqGnZ8rcvcU8RkEixhMC0h8bs))
> 
> A big thank you to menthechocolat as always for pushing me forward and dealing with me. Thank you eyrdamun for helping as well, I love you guys. Thank you to my wife who seriously has kicked my ass to make this chapter a thing. This was incredibly difficult. I've had a really rough last couple of months.
> 
> Thank you, everyone. You've all been so supportive and amazing and so sweet for it taking this long to update. My biggest fear is disappointing you, hopefully, it won't be so long between updates anymore.

The expansive layout of his Palace was much bigger than he anticipated. The harsh contrast between wasteland surrounding the entrance to the jutting, dreary building and the actual size of the Palace itself was as jarring as it was bleak. A gentle breeze of stale air surrounded him, picking up dust from the desolate soil that cracked along the bare ground. Everything here was gray, varying shade of abandonment. It reminded him bitterly of a certain apartment building that he ventured into a few weeks ago. His eyes trailed up to the front of the jailhouse that lay before him. It was sturdy and much too overbearing to be here. Nothing but straight lines and cold angles framed the iron walls. There was no sound to be heard, just the howling winds that itched his ears.

A quick survey around showed no light from the Velvet Room. That was curious but it was for the best, the last thing he wanted to deal with is anyone trying to talk him out of doing this.

Though he had no idea exactly what he was doing. Nor did he care. The desire to know what lay inside his own heart was exciting. The closure he desperately sought always seemed to fall just out of his grasp. Like he could reach out and it would crumble as everything always seemed to. But right now, all he could do was stare up at the distortion that stood proudly in front of him. Was he that desperate now for answers to his own situation that it built this? Was it that he made a deal that threw away the free will of others because he couldn’t bring himself to trust adults? Was he just that consumed with the loss that bitterly ate away at his consciousness that his heart constructed this place that represented oppression? The only answer was yes. Yes to all of it.

People who had Palaces weren’t necessarily bad, right? Futaba was a perfect example of that. The real question was; where did he fit along that spectrum? He fell from the grace of society a long time ago, so maybe he always had it and it grew with every obstacle he overcame, or that overcame him. Every pain, a bolt of jagged metal. Every indecisive moment, another steel bar. Every mistake, a new room, he was sure.

If he thought about it that way, then, of course, it made sense that it would be so big. Every moment of suffocation he felt in this city built this place. Every choice he made found itself here in this giant, dreary building. 

A hot gust of wind caught the tailcoats of his jacket. He didn’t realize his clothing had changed while he had been staring in awe at gateways of twisted metal.

Exactly what was he going to do here? It wasn’t like he was going to attempt to change his own heart, that would be idiotic and pointless. But it could be a very liberating experience, to know exactly what his own heart felt for once, instead of putting his understanding aside for others. He had lost that along the way. Back home, he didn’t have very many friends, even fewer after his arrest and lawsuit. Since then he knew he had been afraid he was going to lose everyone else who had gotten close to him. It made him put their needs before his own and he still felt like he had lost them all. One in particular that he shouldn’t care about bothered him more than anything else. And the fact that no one seemed to remember that person resonated some burning desire inside him. Would people forget him as well? Would they erase him from their lives as soon as he became useless to them?

That was the fate of Akechi Goro after all… and that scared him more than anything. In a way, he created a world where those he considered close would never forget him, no matter what. Was that what created this Palace?

Either way, it was time to get answers, at long last.

This was his cognition, which means somewhere in there, he was there, locked up in some cell filled with decaying flowers. Somewhere.

Maybe he could figure out exactly why he felt so unsettled by Akechi. Somewhere inside this giant prison was closure and he was going to take it.

But nothing could be achieved by standing around.

He took a step towards the courtyard that was lined with grotesques stone statues behind decrepit brick walls. He recognized them almost immediately, despite the odd way they were hunched over and the arrangement of their limbs. Each person whose heart the Phantom Thieves changed in a gross caricature of themselves. A mix of their fearful expressions carved into elements of their Metaverse selves. Madarame’s eye paintings were shoved into the corners of his head, piercing his skull, effectively gouging into his real eyes. Inside those paintings, paintbrushes were stabbed into the pupils. The weight of the frames seemed to be crushing him, endlessly captured in chiseled stone.

Instead of chilling him, it gave him a sense of glowing accomplishment. All around him, his fallen enemies' eyes held a glassy gaze of pain that glistened in the cold light from the sun that was blocked by marbled clouds and it made Joker smile. It was better than they deserved. The one that really caught his attention besides from Kamoshida’s gaping mouth that was nailed down the base of the pillar his likening was cemented into, was actually Shido’s. His figure looked out of place amongst the others who were warped into positions that would have caused great suffering. Shido’s was different, bowing on his stand with a bullet hole decorating the crown of his smooth head like a trophy.

That's what they were, trophies. The people who they corrected to build themselves up, to change society. He wished they'd all crumble into the ground as he passed them.

The cement jungle of figures was soon behind him. He approached the entrance of the Palace, no longer in disbelief that it stood there, now his habits of being a Phantom Thief kicked in.

The giant door was bolted with heavy chains that hung across the entryway. It'd be stupid to walk through the front anyway. He was sure there was some portion of this place that was penetrable. This fortress was obviously worn down; dirty and decrepit. 

There would be a way for him to force himself in there. What would happen when he did, however, would be a mystery.

Maybe if he was lucky, the whole thing would just collapse on him and crush him.

Casting his third eye, he glanced around for any hint of color that caught his eye. Granted, the front of the Palace was flat, no real footholds were found in his initial sweep of the surrounding. There was nothing for him to grab onto, which was discouraging as he looked up into the seemingly endless span of wall. He began to walk to the right, a glimmer of yellow immediate grabbing him. His heart was hammering in his chest, there was a weakness here. He was going to exploit it.

After several minutes he came across disheveled dirt that clumped up against the side of the building. Underground?

This was a start.

He hunched down, red gloves digging into the crumbling soil. The dust from his dig covering discolored the fabric to a muted red which seemed to fit the color scheme of this dreadful place. How would he even do this? Maybe he just let himself in, subconsciously. He didn't understand how he was going to infiltrate a Palace of his own making. He already knew that a reflection of himself had been ripped apart from him, he felt it in his mind the sensation of dread when Arséne was torn from him, tethered down into nothingness. A gaping hole that he had ignored since it happened, occupying himself with everything else.

Maybe that's when this Palace was made... when he betrayed himself. What good was a true self anyway, not when he was powerless and weak to change the world. Nothing about it was admirable or honorable. It was better now, morphing the world with the dirt-stained gloves of Joker.

A few more minutes of clawing unearthed a jagged plate that was pried open. Had someone already been here? No, that didn't seem likely. He just figured it must have been himself coming to the realization that he had control here. Hopefully.

What was his Shadow like? He would have a Palace Ruler, right? He imagined him to be either completely overbearing or possessing as minimal a presence as possible. Hopefully, he wouldn't run into him. He didn't think that would end well. With how much contempt he held for himself, he doubted his appearance in his own self-conscious landscape would be welcomed. That was already evident in his attire changing into his thief's outfit.

Taking a deep breath, he yanked the metal plank off completely, finding that it was incredibly easy to get off. He recoiled a bit from the force he exerted that landed him on his back with the piece of iron in his hand. It almost knocked the air out of his lungs as he collided with the ground.

He scowled before he threw the metal off to the side and sat up.

A dawning realization hit him with gusto, more so than the shock to his body as he fell back.

This was insane. It was amazing that it even went this far, how he let it get this far. His disbelief came in waves, every passing moment here furthered his understanding of just how bad this was, but also furthered his inability to want to turn back. It was too late now, he was past the point of no return once he crawled into the small hole that presented itself to him now.

It was abundantly clear he was going to cross a very serious line the second he stepped foot inside the Palace. Would his Shadow know immediately? Were there traps? As he sat in the dirt, staring at the mouth of hell opened before him, he made his decision and took a deep breath before he climbed through the crawlspace. Quietly he braced himself, preparing himself in the utter darkness for the crashing of metal shards that would crush him.

The crawlspace was riddled with creaks that cried under the stress of his body. It was hot, the hair on the back of his neck slicked down with sweat and grime from the small space he found himself in. There was no light except for that behind him which made navigation difficult but it was a straight line, or so he figured, so it wouldn't be too difficult to backtrack if need be.

Except it seemed to go on forever. A few times his stomach lurched with the anticipation of falling through the metal ducts as they wobbled under his palms and knees.

He let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding when his head hit a slotted grate that resounded with a soft thud. He could barely see through it but casting his third eye ability revealed nothing was waiting for him on the other side. Pressing on the grate popped it out relatively easily and he was instantly hit with a draft of warm stagnant air. It was the same temperature as outside and did nothing for the sweat that was dripping down his neck and was beginning to soak through his suit.

'Here we go...' He thought quietly, bracing himself for whatever happened once he entered the Palace. He pushed and pulled himself out of the vent with gusto, piling out with enough momentum to roll along the ground and land on his feet. He stood, instantly looked around in the dimly lit corridor he found himself in. He couldn't discern any particular landmarks that would give him any indication where he was, but he knew better than to wait around and try to make logical sense where he was. What he needed to do was find a room to hide in to gather his bearings and rip his jacket and mask off as it clung to him.

The hall he stood in pulsated in a honing red light that faded into yet another source of red light. Along the high ceilings fixtures that emulated sirens spun at varying speeds, throwing lights with no rhyme or reason. But it was enough for him to piece together two things, one was that this Palace was archaic, the second was that it wasn't affected by his presence there. Nothing quivered nor shook. There were no sounds, no guards nearby from what he could tell. His only company was the heavy dust in the air and poorly maintained lighting.

He pressed himself to one of the walls in the hall, taking a chance on going right. He was always exceedingly cautious in Palaces, something that he lost his touch on in the last couple of months. But here his mind was clear, though his actual objective was not. He hadn’t felt this sure since the interrogation room, since the ark. His instincts kicked in as though they were the motor for his movements, silently humming as they took him down the hall.

Fortunately, his gut seemed to tell him the right way, he soon crossed a small opening and his third eye confirmed that, yes it was safe there. If anything happened, he did have a goho-m he could activate in a pinch.

He pushed through the door that creaked from the strain, the image inside the room flickered to some store he vaguely recognized. Whatever it was, it wasn’t his concern right now. He quickly stripped off his jacket and removed the mask from his face with slight effort.

The safe room was filled with cardboard boxes, stacked high but slouching into each other and a few boxes had been laid on the floor to form some sort of makeshift table, he assumed. There was absolutely nothing eye-catching in this area. Other Palaces had at least had some sort of decoration or theme. So far all he could tell was this place was abandoned and damp with a theme of dust and muggy warmth. There weren’t any special stashes of items either, a quick glance around every room he traveled to told him that.

Moreover, in the next few hours of silent exploring, he hadn’t found anything either. Honestly, the most excitement he encountered was the occasional old speaker system set up in the corner of a turn. What’s more was that this Palace was massive. It could take weeks, even months to get through it. He had a day, maybe another in a few weeks. Not much time, he wasn’t going to tell anyone about this, obviously. So, whatever he wanted to know, he had to know today.

If he could find anything.

And just as he was started to let his irritation at the heat and the endless turns and sharp twists the layout of this building was throwing at him when he saw something new.

In front of him, a three-meter wall of papers couldn’t help but catch his attention. The papers were all neatly stapled in rows. Wanted posters it seemed. As he stared at it, he heard something, the heavy thuds of footsteps growing louder.

There were the guards.

Quickly he sought shelter from the opening, hiding behind the corner of the hall. He heard them grumbling under their breath as they walked past him. He didn't want to initiate any fights, if he could help it, he'd avoid them all together. Going through Palaces with a group was difficult enough as is, but solo? Even with his current stock of resources, he wouldn’t last long if he got caught, nor if he was trigger-happy. Laying low was the best bet.

He strained to hear the two guards again as they passed him again.

"Dunno what he is so concerned about."

"Right. It's not like any of the prisoners can escape."

"So why is the Warden acting like this?"

Warden? Prisoners? That sounded promising.

Of course, they walked away from him as they spoke. He threw caution in the air and quietly followed them, remaining just in earshot of their words.

"-breach. Remember? That's why he is so on edge."

"But that was an accident."

"How does a person accidentally shoot themselves in the head, idiot."

"I don't know, but it's not a big deal. We've got traps-"

"And still someone-" Their words drowned out as adrenaline raced through him. They had stopped and Joker lingered for a moment before he darted back to the initial spot he was hiding before. To his disappointment, they just turned another corner and kept going. Shit. He was sure he missed some vital information in that conversation. It wouldn’t be smart to follow them again, not knowing the layout of the area and the distance they were at now. He’d have to run quietly. He would get caught.

“Mona, could you follow-“ He started, quietly, only to remember there was no one beside him. That’s right. He was alone. He let out a soft sigh and walked over to the papered wall and ripped down a wanted poster. There was no picture on it, just a description he could barely make out due to the penmanship of the writer. Useless information but he folded it up and put it in his jacket anyway. The light in here wasn’t the greatest, so maybe in another safe room, he could examine it better.

He pushed on. Fortunately, this place was massive and as such, the guards on duty seemed to be spread further apart or were avoidable. He didn’t know whether it was luck or the fact that this was his Palace seemed to aid his journey.

Also, there weren’t that many traps, concentrating on large open spaces that contained nothing where the only places where they were haphazardly laid out. He didn’t know what the guards were talking about when they were grumbling about how security should be more lax. Maybe they were wrong, or he was being overly cautious. Either way, he was thankful for it. He ended up in more staircases that led nowhere or were impossible to climb onto because they were latched into the ceiling beyond his ability to jump. A quick scan with his third eye told him there was nothing of value beyond them anyhow, so he chalked them up to eerie distractions and continued forward. He still hadn’t found a map by the time he reached his fourth safe room.

It seemed to be a bit cooler in this room, he sat down on a cardboard box and massaged his legs that were already wearing with exhaustion. He hadn’t found anything though. Just empty halls and rooms stacked with useless things. There was no sign of his friends, his confidants, nor Akechi. It was getting frustrating.

That frustration was making him fatigued. The clamminess of his skin sticking to his clothing made him itch and even though there was a slight draft in the safe room, it was still pointedly uncomfortable here. He never knew what he would expect of his own Palace. It had been a conversation they had all had around the table in the attic as Morgana returned to them from the blowout. The topics of different types of Palaces came up somehow. Everyone had reluctantly discussed what they thought their Palaces would be like if they ever had one. Each of his friends went around the table and explained what they thought they would see in their particular Palace, until they got to Akira.

"I couldn't even think of what your's would be like, leader." Yusuke offered, resting his cheek against his hand as he looked at Akira thoughtfully.

"Right? I can't think of anything either." Ann huffed from beside him as she played with her hair.

Before he could rebuttal, Makoto chimed in. "Well of any of us, it wouldn't even make sense for him to have something like that." There was a murmur of encouraged agreement.

"Really, this whole conversation doesn't make sense. None of you can have Palaces. We should just go to Mementos and take care of our business."

Everyone's attention then turned to Morgana, with only Haru's eyes catching Akira's before they activated the app to go to Mementos. But another word was never spoken on the subject. That is until Akira had half-jokingly brought it up to Morgana after Shido’s ark sank.

Looking back, it was funny... incredibly so. Hindsight was always 20/20 and if he had paid closer attention, he would have realized sooner that his teammates only seemed to be interested in him when he was a flawless leader. A leader wouldn’t have faults that distorted into a massive, empty fortress like this. So of course, they didn’t want to hear his input on the subject. It would be too inconvenient to think about him having those weaknesses. It would dissolve their team if they couldn’t have full confidence in him.

He sat on the floor of the safe room, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his still dirty glove and mulled over his options. Though this Palace was symmetrical and easy to navigate, he hadn’t gotten to the heart of anything yet. The scenery changed when he urged it too… maybe he was the cause for there being nothing in here.

Maybe he wasn’t ready to accept his feelings, maybe it was fear holding him back.

Maybe’s again. He was sick of it.

Whatever was here, he was ready to face it.

Voices outside caught his attention suddenly, making his head snap up and his eyes dart to the door.

He recognized that voice.

Ryuji?

He clambered to his feet and briskly walked to the door, pressing his ear against it.

"I don't know why he can't just do it himself." That was definitely Ryuji, the timber of complaints was a dead give away.

"Stop whining so much, it's not like the Warden can do everything!" Morgana piped up, but an edge of irritation laced his voice. Warden huh? Did his cognitions of them finally decide to appear?

Ryuji sighed loudly behind the door. "Yeah, but why are we lookin' for an intruder? Why can't he just do it? Isn't this supposed to be what he's good at? Ow! Stop hitting me, Panther!"

Intruder... him? Were they looking for him?

"Stop yelling about how dumb things are, then! He could hear you, ya know?"

"It's not like he'll do anything to me."

"He's been so off recently, you never know Skull~." That was Futaba, were they all traveling together? "He could slice your head off~ Or put a bullet between your eyes if you make a mistake. He’s done it to the guards, why not you?” Her tone was mocking but held obvious concern.

“No way he’d do that to me.” Ryuji didn’t sound as confident as he had before, however.

Was his Shadow that… crazy? To kill his friend? That was absurd.

“You don’t know that. He made us make all those wanted posters but didn't even tell us what to put on them! He's got a few screws loose. Ever since-"

"We found the prisoner was gone."

Joker was now pressed flat against the door, holding his breath so he could better understand their muffled voices that dissolved into murmurs.

“But we found him again, so why does it matter? He’s the one who got out somehow and fucked up all our security modules. Why did he come down so hard on us, anyway?”

"It's just odd that it set him off like that. I never thought he could scare me but his behavior has been unsettling."

"Like when he threw a fit about the monitors not working in the cell room yesterday? I thought he was going to gut Oracle for sure."

"Oracle, you have to get those fixed by the end of the day. I fear for the consequences if you don't."

"I know, Inari, stop pestering me. I'll fix 'em. Not my fault someone busted our system. If he’d allow guards in the cell room it wouldn’t be a big deal."

Their voices started fading into the distance, footsteps dying with the conversation. He let out his breath and opened the door slowly.

The door creaked with a shrill grind of metal that echoed through the now quiet hall. He recoiled like the handle had burnt him.

Shit. It was already wide enough for him to walk through, surely that caught someone's attention. He had done so well to keep his presence dialed down, but now may be the time to fight. If his cognitive friends called for backup against the obvious intruder they were speaking about.... it was going to be a difficult fight.

He could hear his heart hammering as Queen very loudly asked what the noise was. A flurry of running footsteps drowned out the racing blood in his ear, stamped out the itch in his neck. He couldn't move. He should have hidden behind one of the tall stacks of sagging boxes, ducked into the shadows of the room but his legs wouldn't budge.

He didn't want to move.

He was going to see just how they reacted to him, some sick part of him wanting to get caught and see what they'd do.

It was Queen's face that appeared before him after she yanked the door completely open. However, her eyes only landed on him for a moment before flitting elsewhere in the room. It was interesting, seeing her dressed in all blue, like a simplified police uniform, her hair neatly pulled under a short brimmed hat.

"What was that?" Panther called behind her, following up her lead and into the door frame with her.

"I don't know, I don't see anything out of place..."

"Are you serious?" His own voice startled him as he spoke, a humorless chuckle choking his disbelief. He waved his hand in front of Queen and Panther. They didn’t react in the slightest.

They didn't hear him.

Queen shook her head and sighed. "Maybe, we just all heard something? There's nothing in this room but boxes and nowhere to hide behind."

"We should look though, ya think?" Skull suggested before Queen let out another deep sigh. "No, it's creepy in here and there's nothing worth mentioning, let's just go."

"We would have heard someone running down the halls too, perhaps it was just the foundation settling?"

"Maybe... I don't sense anything, though, so I think Queen is right."

"I think Queen is scared." Mona piped up, cutting Oracle off near the end of her sentence.

“I-I am not, Mona!”

"I'm curious as well." Noir was right behind him, taking up the space in the opening that Queen and Panther occupied before.

He was laughing, they couldn't hear him, they couldn't see him, but he was almost doubled over laughing, supporting his weight on his knees as his gloved fingers dug into his thighs to the point of being painful. Of course, they couldn’t see him, when had they ever treated him as something more than a leader?

"Warden?" Noir's voice stopped him mid-breath.

"Wait! Where?" There was panic evident in everyone's voice.

Mona hummed that tone where he was suspicious of something. "I heard it too... maybe one of the monitors is working again?"

"I didn't hear nuthin'"

"Me neither."

"Maybe we are all going a bit crazy in here." Noir's laugh was much different from what his own had been, gentle but rounded in sadness. "Let's go investigate the monitors and see if something is wrong."

There was a whisper of agreement and as his teammates turned to leave, Noir's eyes caught on his own, a small smile gracing her lips. His breathing stopped.

That raised more questions than it answered…

But the crowd of Phantom Thieves, all garbed in blue that reminded him of the twin wardens from the Velvet Room had once again left him alone with only the lingering comments of them all promising each other not to tell their boss about the incident and assure him that all was well inside the jail cell.

He squeezed through the door opening, careful not to let it creak again and followed them. He was still cautious, creeping along the wall, careful to keep out of sight. Especially if Noir and Mona had seen him, or heard him. He wondered why they, of all of them, had maybe gotten a glimpse of him. He wondered if anything in this Palace could see him at all… and so he wondered if Akechi would be able to see him when he finally found him.

But right now it was important to keep his train of thought on track. Following them lead to a little bit more of the story of what exactly transpired in this Palace. Just a few days ago, a prisoner that was kept in the cell area went missing after all their camera feeds and sirens were cut from the control room. Apparently strange things had been occurring since then. They found the prisoner back in the cells during a routine security sweep. Everyone in this group knew that it was the prisoner that did this, somehow broke out and then messed with their security and destroyed the footage. There wasn’t a doubt in anyone’s mind that this was the case. This was so weird, trailing his friends without being able to give input… not like he could offer much advice to this situation anyway.

Oracle stopped the crowd motioned for Fox to lift her up on his shoulders so she could check the monitors.

“Come on, Inari, hoist me up.”

“Why me?”

“Because you’re a tree. Come on, if the Warden sees ya lazing around and not helping me fix this-”

“Don’t keep threatening me with the same thing.”

Joker peered around the corner and watched them. Soon they were splitting up to take on a typical security sweep of the area. He wasn’t too concerned though, obviously his own ideas about how his friends treated him made him completely invisible to them.

“I don’t think there’s an intruder, Queen. I think we need to talk to the Warden. He’s taking this too far.” He heard Panther tell the other girl in a hushed voice. “He almost really hurt us yesterday…”

“I know… but how do we even approach the situation?” Queen responded and shook her head. “There’s nothing we can do for now. Things will calm down once we get the system up and running. We should go check the cell area, just in case.”

Panther didn’t look too convinced but let out a sigh and nodded at her teammate.

They were the ones to follow then.

“Oracle, Fox- We are going to go check the cells.” Queen announced.

“Okay, don’t be too long. I may need a mortal to sacrifice to fix the system.” The girl on Fox’s shoulders joked, or seemed to.

“Well the sound definitely didn’t come from this speaker.” She concluded as Fox helped her down off his shoulders.

“I see, I think we should just do a round of checks and go to the control room.” Mona piped in. There was an air of agreement and they dispersed.

He never expected there to be a map of the area, so this would just have to do. He leisurely followed behind them, leading to an area he hadn’t been to yet, simply because… it was kind of difficult to find. He wasn’t sure if he had walked past it or what but it just seemed to materialize out of nowhere, or at least that’s what it felt like. He made sure to keep his distance, all the while the girls chatted and checked around. The dark parts of the corners of a wide room were his friend as he kept into the shadows that were cast. He didn’t see them enter any other room though, just walk around the perimeter. He held back a laugh as Panther looked straight through him and turned back to Queen to report nothing unusual. They really thought that little of him?

Or at least he thought they thought that little of him. It only made sense.

They walked back out of the room, he was hot on their heels as they talked about nothing in particular. To his dismay they were starting to go back to the area they had been before, probably to reconvene with the rest of the Phantom Thief guards.

No… wait where were the cells? He bit his lip, the inside corner of them, hard and decided to pull away and go back. It took a while to get to that area, it had been a good fifteen-minute walk and he wasn’t going to find anything if he just went back to where he had been before. He watched his friends fade into the distance of the jail and doubled back, not nearly as concerned as he had been before.

They couldn’t see him, why be careful and waste energy?

Where the hell were these cells?

They had to have been in that area, why else would they sweep it?

His creeping suspicion about who the prisoner was made him excited and that excitement was more important now than anything else. His curiosity was boiling him alive and he loved every second of it. He reentered the room, looking around for another door to enter. This was where Panther and Queen were walking. He focused but couldn't find anything that stood out to him. The room was bigger than any other the other areas he had been in so far. There were a lot of twists and turns here too, completely unnecessary as many of them just lead to a wall or dead end.

It was like a simplified maze. He hadn't seen the extent of it as he hid from his cognitive teammates but now he sure they hadn't completely checked every little bit of the room. So had they just wanted to be alone? Probably...

He reached a small clearing, from the other side of the room he spotted another entrance to where he stood now, two ways to get in. But what really drew his attention was the giant door that stood between both entrances.

The cell room?

In his excitement, he failed to hear approaching steps until voices finally registered to him.

"Who the hell is that?"

His attention snapped over to the two Shadow guards that were pointing at him. He had two options, run away and hide and come back later after putting the whole Palace on guard and possibly let Oracle finish her repairs on the security system or-

He made a break for the door which was locked with a fingerprint reader. He yanked his glove off and jammed his thumb in, watching the red screen turn green as the Shadows raced after him. The door began to swing open slowly and he squeezed through it and forced it shut behind him as cold panic finally washed over him.

He jumped as the Shadows collided with the door and backed away, at least now preparing himself to fight. He heaved out a ragged sigh of relief as the footsteps of the Shadows that chased him stopped abruptly.

“How did he get in there?”

Amongst the chattering of the guards was his own labored breath and his blood beating like a drum against his ears. He swallowed hard and listened to their conversation over his own adrenaline.

“We need to tell the Warden immediately. He has to be removed."

"If we tell the Warden, we're dead for letting him get in there!"

He sucked in a harsh breath. He hadn't ever heard Shadows really... panic before, but these definitely were nervous.

"We have to tell him though."

"I'll run before I'd tell him anything. He'll torture us for this."

"Where are you going to run, idiot?"

He frowned, was everyone in the Palace afraid of, what he assumed to be, his Shadow self? Why was he tormenting his guards?

"Why don't you both come in here?" He goaded, confidence welling up in him to mask his frustration at getting caught, for being so stupid to believe that he could walk around unaffected just because the cognition of his friends could not see him.

"Shut up, intruder!" The door was kicked and it made him jump a bit in surprise.

"Going in there means death, so you are going to die either way."

"Is that so? Why? Is there something valuable in here I should look for?" There was another kick at the door but the guards didn't venture to even try the knob.

"The Warden will find you and put a bullet between your eyes." A chuckle left Joker's lips and he shook his head, letting the image of a cocky, arrogant thief wash over him. At this point he had thrown away the world, what else was he to lose here? Maybe the Warden would put a bullet in his head... but only after-

"Why? Because I'm going to steal something valuable to him?" His voice rose and fell like the ocean waves against a sandy shore, a lulling, eroding tone filled with a mocking promise.

"Don't touch the prisoner again, thief."

"Oh I just might though... is that what the Warden is scared of? The prisoner disappearing again?" The hostile grumbles and vague threats of the Shadows on the other side of the door confirmed his suspicions. Someone who was kept here had escaped with the aid of someone else, whom these Shadows thought was him. It felt just like any other Palace now, this being the giant puzzle to piece together. No one could have gotten in here, no one like him anyway... right? None of his friends outside knew he had a Palace, they had no reason to suspect him, besides the obvious change in his demeanor as he desperately clambered onto this image of Joker, a leader to put the world back into balance. None of them knew that he had made a deal with whatever devil, or god, in the Velvet Room on Christmas Eve. They knew his story once he broke them free from their jail cells, that he tried to put these right and this was the result. So there was no reason to suspect him.

So there couldn't have been an intruder, right? Maybe... the prisoner escaped on his own. After all... he knew who the convict was, he had seen him so many times, on either side of a cell room in his dreams at night, his head flowering from the bloody wound that rooted down his face.

And Akechi Goro was a resourceful person if nothing else. He was sure that manifested in his cognition of him as well. His heart skipped a beat that twisted his grin into a wide gaping smirk, his teeth set and bared. He felt alive. Finally. He was going to see him. Even though this was, quite frankly, the stupidest thing he had ever attempted, even though he let the world become enslaved, this was going to be the best thing that ever happened to him. No longer would he let himself succumb to something as asinine as fate. No more confidants who couldn't get simple toys back for him, no more promise land apartments that held nothing but mundane things, no more doubt about why closure always seems to dissolve when he reached for it.

By the time he left this Palace, he would be able to cope or he wouldn't leave at all. He could hold his head high and know that his choices were the right ones, even though inside he felt empty... hollow. This was the step in the right direction to fix all that, to know where he stood with himself and how to handle this grief. A choice he built with his own dusty, gloved hands. He could be resourceful too.

His confidence outgrew his insecurities. The guards were debating on where they should go to escape and he had grown weary of hearing their grating voices. He looked around the room he was in, finally, taking in his new surroundings of more polished iron gates set in metal frames. The cells...

Above him, the red lights that lined the halls earlier made an appearance once more, illuminating the area in unison instead of the patchy, out of sync way they worked before. Upon each area that forked sat a monitor that buzzed with white noise and fuzzy screens that showed an attempt at trying to properly work. On the walls hung cameras that swung on their axles, scanning the room for any changes. They were positioned over every single cell, covering the entire hall that housed iron barred rooms.

It was now obvious why the rest of this place was in shambles. It was almost like he entered an entirely new Palace. Everything was pristine, clean and perfectly symmetrical. There was no hint of dust nor neglect. Well.. besides what Oracle mentioned earlier... nothing was working, right?

He took a moment to walk back and forth from the left and right side of the threshold he stood in, trying to see if the rows of cells deviated or if the room split off. It didn't seem like it did, which means it was a straight line of around eighty cells, with one barely visible crowning the end of the hallway.

His mouth went dry, like he had just swallowed ashes and eyed the cameras, concentrating on them to discern whether they were functional. Nothing caught his attention. It was just as Oracle had griped earlier. Someone ruined their security system, or it was just so poorly maintained... or, as she had mentioned, the prisoner kept here destroyed it when he was attempting to escape.

Whatever the cause, he was going to just count his blessings that his Shadow wasn't going to make an untimely appearance.

He took a deep breath and stepped out into the hall, half expecting the sirens to chirp, at least. But there was silence. With each swing of the cameras, he felt his legs tremble but he still walked forward. He rested his hands in his pockets to keep them from shaking. It didn't help.

There were no guards here, surprising from what he had gathered about the Warden of this Palace. He seemed to be incredibly paranoid and wanted to keep this prisoner secured, so why didn't he implement guards? Unless he was so paranoid he couldn't trust his own men... which was...

Likely.

The end of the hall was coming into view, though he couldn't see anything inside, his legs still carried him forward. Would he have come all this way just to have every opportunity ripped from him again? On one hand that wouldn't surprise him in the least. It'd be enough for him to just toss in the towel and forget him, just like everyone else seemed to. Akechi had faded from the public conversation, seemingly from even Niijima Sae... even from his own memory a bit...

He couldn't recall the exact color of his eyes or the sound of his laugh... he couldn't remember how he looked at them when they offered for him to accompany them to take Shido down, how soft his voice had been when he made a promise to take Shido down for him. He was on the precipice of fighting for his memory or allowing himself to let Akechi Goro go. He had been on the cusp of reforming humanity or letting himself be tethered down and serve them. That was an easier decision than what to do about his unsorted feeling about a man who tried to kill him.

The man who was humming in the cell before him. The one who was paying him no mind, much as the other cognitive thieves ignored him. But this was different, this wasn't from lack of realization that he was there... this was obvious and purposeful in the way that his dull eyes darted to him and then away.

Were they always that dark amber color?

He sat down in front of the bars, heavily. It was then that he noticed just how achy his legs were... but nothing felt as strained as his heart did.

Akechi didn't turn his head to look at him, reminiscent of dreams that plagued his nights. There were no flowers in this place, no blooms of carnations or spider lilies... no vines that wrapped themselves around Akechi's body. The vines and roots were replaced with white straps of belts that secured Akechi's arms around his own waist. The straight jacket looked like something out of a horror movie, clinically white that faded red in the turning siren lights that circled above them.

"Akechi..." He started, his voice as shaky as his hands that slowly moved to grip the iron bars separating the two of them.

"Warden, go away. I don't feel like playing with you right now." The other answered absently as he scuffed the heel of his foot into the ground. His voice was light and sweet and it made his stomach churn.

"I'm not the Warden..." He breathed out, making himself more comfortable.

Akechi hummed and nodded. "Of course." He laughed softly and finally looked at him, both eyes boring into his own.

The blood that was matted in Akechi's hair made his skin crawl, but not as much as the smile that hung on his lips.

"Akechi-"

"Well played, Joker."

His heart skipped again but he kept himself calm.

"I have some questions."

"Of course. I'll do my best, leader." His breathy chuckle made Joker grip the bars harder. This felt... weird. Talking to a dead man in his own distorted imagination. Maybe this was what going mad was like.

"Akechi-san, why?" It was hard to breathe, hard to think clearly. All the questions that poisoned his waking thoughts blurred together and twisted into a mess that could not form on his tongue.

"Why? I don't know what you mean. Keep your guard up."

Joker stared at him, his eyebrows furrowing behind his mask. Keep his guard up?

"What?"

Those dark, cold eyes narrowed in on him. "What are you doing?" He asked, his tone changing almost instantly, to one of disbelief. "You got lucky."

"Lucky... wait, Akechi-san you aren't making any sense."

"You dare look down on me? I'm almost disappointed."

"No, I'm not looking down on you, I just want to talk." He reasoned, watching the detective in front of him who started laughing before he could even finish his sentence.

"I'll leave it to you, then." And fell quiet apart from the humming of some tuneless song under his breath for only a few moments before turning to him again and grinning.

"You got lucky. The risk is quite high. I suggest a tactical retreat."

This all sounded... familiar, vaguely so. Hadn't he said these things in battle before? What was his going on about?

"What's wrong, Joker?" He jeered, leaning his head up against the wall. "Was this unexpected? You should pull the trigger. I didn't expect it to be this hot toda- is it you? Are you my enemy? Get away from me!"

He couldn't move, just stare in horror at what was unfolding in front of him. The range of emotions he had just witnessed left him cold. The echo of Akechi's foot kicking the bars, pushing himself away from Joker in a fearful, panicked jump made him push back as well. What the hell was going on?

"I just want to talk, Akechi-san!"

"Talk!?" His voice grew shrill, his eyes wide. "Then talk! That's all you can do is talk. Who the hell do you think you are? You piece of shit."

He forgot how to breathe, how to form words.

"That's right, you are worthless, trash. Go die. Go die before I kill you."

This was not Akechi Goro. This is not the person who haunted his dreams. This was not the person who came to Leblanc to drink coffee, the one who joined the Phantom Thieves in order to entrap them, the one who approached him after the television field trip to inquire about him. This was not him, it never could be him. This was just another toy raygun. This was just another empty apartment. This was just the image of a dead man whom he put his faith into.

But this cognition was right... he was worthless. He laughed as he gripped the bars to pull himself up. He had seen enough. This was not his answer, this was not his closure. He wouldn't find it here. He wouldn't find anything anywhere, no place to belong to, no one to confide in. No one to hold him or tell him the truth or ask him what was wrong. He only had himself, and did he really even have that anymore? The festering hole in his heart ruptured and his blood turned to acid as he watched this cheap imitation of Akechi Goro laugh at him. His neck itched but he resisted the urge to scratch at it. He needed to leave.

"What's wrong, Joker? Why don't you join me in here?"

He ignored him, ignored the guilt that lit inside his chest. How could he have been so stupid? This wasn't ever going to solve anything.

"You're dead. You're dead." He chanted, singing loudly before mumbling the same words over and over again. "This is where your justice ends."

He stopped short, those words grounding his progress away from the cell and he turned around. He had never heard those words come from him before but he knew... he needed to end this. This was all a mistake.

A mistake he created.

He raised his gun to Akechi, his eyes cast downward on him. There was no fear in his sullen eyes, but the gentle smile he wore shook him to his core.

"You've given up on me too, huh?" He asked, staring at the barrel of the gun in Joker's hand. He needed to do this, to put Akechi Goro to rest. His finger twitched on the trigger as he tried to compress his guilt into a neat box and pack it away into the furthest depths of his consciousness.

"Well? Do it."

Akechi Goro would have done it. He would have endured and moved on... he would have been stronger than this. It would have been a breeze for him to kill this image of himself...

Maybe.

He would never know now, any of it. He had to come to terms with that. No Palace could have done that for him. All this time he was blindly running around looking for answers when, in reality, he was just looking for acceptance as well. He wouldn't find it here. But... He wasn't Akechi Goro either. He couldn't find the resolve to finish the job. He couldn't rid himself of this ghost, not even this pathetic excuse for one.

He lowered his gun and turned on his heel, barely registering the yelling that followed him down the hallway, regurgitated commands Crow had used in battle and chokes of insults Black Mask had offered him in the Engine Room.

"You are weak! I am above you! How are you more special than I am?!"

Meaningless words to unasked questions. None of that mattered anymore. Nothing did. He would find nothing but emptiness in this place. This was all for naught.

A crackling over one of the loudspeaker shrieked louder than the cognition of the detective in the cell.

He jumped as a shrill siren began to sound and pierced his ears with urgency.

"Intruder in the jail! All hands to the cells! Find him!" His own voice yelled over the speakers.

Shit.

He gave one more look back at the small barred room that contained his ace and softly said his goodbyes before he bolted towards the end of the hall, to the door where he taunted the Shadow Guards earlier.

"Apprehend him! Oracle get the cameras working, NOW!"

"I'm tryin', I'm tryin'. Hold your horses, Warden. I can only work so fast!"

"Oracle don't back talk him!"

Joker was frantically trying to unbolt the door, reaming himself mentally for not hurrying, or not walking away sooner. He shouldn't have been here. He should have realized sooner that this wasn't going to be his holy grail, his saving grace. But it was too late to dwell on what if's and what should have happened.

Suddenly he heard the whizzing of cameras veering up and turning on, all of them moving in unison to turn towards him. Shit.

Shit!

He finally unbolted the last lock and swung the door open with difficulty.

"Don't hurt him! Bring him to me alive!" The Warden's voice boomed over the newly working speakers that wavered from the volume produced. He covered his ears, desperate to drown out the earsplitting scream of the sirens as his vision began to darken from the looming figures of shadows that now surrounded him.

He knew what came next, he's done this before. He was going to get caught, he was going to get hurt, beaten and drugged. He knew there wasn't any way to escape. But he still tried. He ran along the wall of the large room he was in, ducking the swing of a club the Shadows now pursuing him carried. His lungs were burning already, the ache in his legs threatening to seize his muscles. He couldn't hear anything other than his own panting breath and the irate threats of the Warden. A swarm of Shadows suddenly overtook his path, pouring in from the entrance he was aiming for. Pure instinct kicked in, his attention diverting to the walls for some kind of foothold, something to climb.

Nothing, there was nothing. He pulled out his gun, taking aim at the miasma of Shadows that overtook him before he could let a shot off. He was tackled to the ground and his consciousness faded as his head smashed into the ground.

His head pulsated with a dull ache when he came to, his world spinning into existence. The throbbing intensified and he began to heave. He coughed, trying to catch his breath.

"Seems you're finally awake, thief." A smooth voice purred out with malicious intent. His bleak vision began to reorganize itself, smudging and blurring as he tried to focus on whoever was talking to him.

"Who would have thought it was you, of all people." A loud clicking followed the statement and the echo of heels on metal slushed in his ears.

"W-what?" The question died on his lips. Was this... the interrogation room? His senses were dulled, his arms tingling from the pressure of what he assumed was handcuffs behind his back. He could still feel the coldness of the metal floor through his pants where he was sitting on his knees. Everything was slowly becoming clear as the clacking drew closer to him. A gloved hand reached out and grabbed his chin, forcing him to look up. No, this wasn't the interrogation room at all.

Bright yellow eyes glared at him beneath dark curls.  He blinked hard, trying to get his face out of this person's grip. This person was going to hurt him, was going to drug him and beat him. He knew it was coming... he was going to die here.

"Ah-ah, don't be so rude to your host, thief." The man who held his face squeezed his jaw suddenly, yanking his chin up to meet his eyes again.

It was unnerving staring at his own face, the smirk he wore sent chills down his spine.

"I hope you're grateful that I spared your life until now. I could have just had those useless guards kill you but I must say, I enjoyed the thought of you begging for your life." He shoved Joker's head down, making it hit the floor with a resonating crack of fresh pain. He cried out in a soft whimper, his head rushing with a wet warmth that he assumed was blood. He gasped, trying to swallow down the pain and looked up at himself that glared down at him. He knew then that he didn't care for how blue looked on him. At least not in the style of a military uniform. Hats weren't really his thing either, the guard cap looked as pretentious as the glow of his golden eyes. He'd crack a joke if he knew it wouldn't be a death sentence.

The Warden tilted his chin up with the tip of his shoe. "I haven't heard a thank you yet."

"For what?" He coughed out, trying to move his arms, but realizing they were actually cuffed.

The mirror of his face frowned before his lips snarled into a grimace. The toe of his boot found Joker's throat and pressed, causing Joker to crane his head back in discomfort.

"Thank you." He mouthed, unable to actually speak. The boot retracted and his Shadow sighed. He recognized that sigh, he did it when he was getting bored or antsy.

"Did you really think you could steal him from me again? You don't deserve him."

"What do you mean?" He swallowed hard, trying again to pull at his restraints. He shifted his feet, trying to let his blood circulate.

"Akechi-san." His Shadow said harshly before turning his attention down to Joker one more. "You don't deserve to have a second chance with him. You let him die, you let the world rot for your own selfishness. And here we are. So why do you think I'd let you steal him away from me?"

"I-I didn't steal him away-"

"Liar!" He yelled and knelt down in front of him, gripping his hair and yanked his head up again. "You think I'm stupid? I know you are a piece of shit. I  _ am  _ you! I just want to know why you think you're so fucking special that you deserve another chance? You don’t deserve anything."

Joker winced, now sure that he could feel blood dripping down his head and his neck. He didn't deserve anything... but he still sought after it.

"No one cares for you. Not your family who haven't talked to you in almost a year, not your friends who only use you for their own purposes, no one. You are only good for one thing, being a doormat for those with power. You are weak. The weak die here."

He was weak, that's why he couldn't move on, couldn't cope.

"I've watched you, you know. You're vile and undesirable. Your purpose in life is to be an example of how society will trample those who fight back. Your rebellion was not a revolution, you have failed even yourself. And you'll pay for your transgressions."

He watched his Shadow pull out his gun, stroking the barrel with a sly smile on his face. "Do you know what happens next? I kill you and put an end to all of this. You and I."

Akira couldn't speak, couldn't bring himself to defend his position or his actions. He was trash, garbage that the Phantom Thieves would clean out with a simple request. He would be better as a trophy outside on the lawn of this Palace, a decoration of a terrible person brought to justice.

He heard the Warden walk closer. "If you're too much of a coward to speak up for yourself, I'll lay you to rest right now, Joker."

Gray eyes slid closed, lips opening ever so slightly. He was not strong, he was not enduring, he was not the one to reform society or save the world. He couldn't be that person anymore. He would die here, friendless and alone and that's how it was meant to be. How fate finally did him in. Akechi was right, when push came to shove, he couldn't hold up to being a leader, a savior. He was no one special. He was just a sixteen-year-old delinquent who would never amount to anything. Which is why he closed his mouth, swallowed and looked his executioner in the face. At least this way, the Palace would be destroyed right? He would die, and this place would be gone forever. Those he respected would never know his sins. He heard the gun cock. It echoed in the room loudly, almost seemed to split into two separate noises and shook him as he stared death in the face. He wondered how Akechi looked when he pulled the trigger and if he wore such a sickening smile as his Shadow did right now.

"Wait-!"

The sound of a shot rang through the entire room.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things pick up from here on out. Sorry to leave it on a cliffhanger but I should be out with a new chapter soon. The next being my favorite of anything I've written so far.  
> Thank you!  
> My twitter is @ Chromiekins


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience! Thank you for continuing to read this story! We are at the halfway-ish point now. Thank you to my betas menthechocolat and eyrdamun for talking me through it and rereading this so many times I've lost count. Thank you to my chapter betas: masochistedgelord and @ChelliosNcream on twitter. Thank you to my wife as always for rooting for me and kicking my ass.   
> Please enjoy

What woke him up, initially, was the offset of crushing pressure of air splitting his deprived lungs open wide to accept life. His eyes shot open as he choked on the supply of fresh air, coughing and gasping for it. There was no sound around him, just the echoes of his own panicked breath and erratic heartbeat pounding in his head over and over again. His lungs burned with every mouthful of oxygen, pushing the much-needed air into him and leaving him struggling to regain control of the flow. The cold floors pressed sharply into his shoulder blades and spine. The chill seeped through his coat and made him desperately want to move. He tried, his head bursting with a sudden onslaught of pain and weight, the weight-

The leaden weight behind his eyes made him scream... but no sound came out other than a broken groan that seared his throat.

He coughed freely, his vision blurring and dizzying him to the point of nausea. Luckily he hadn’t, otherwise, he would have been choking on not only air but vomit. He stomached his discomfort as his world split into colors he’d never seen before, magnified and multiplied into specks of color that danced into his sight. He couldn’t move. His body wouldn’t obey the simple command of curling up into a more comfortable position. Why? Why was everything aching so badly? His labored breath ran his throat ragged and sore.

All he could do was lay on the mercilessly cold, metal floor beneath him as the world began to orientate itself again. The leaden feeling behind his eyes lessened into a dull throb after what must have been hours.

He was finally able to utter a pained gasp that ripped his throat raw in the process. The strength had not yet returned to his limbs but the overwhelming thickness that settled over his body began to slowly dissipate. Now that he could breathe normally, it was time for the rest of the pain to finally catch up to his oxygen-starved brain. Whatever had happened had hurt, and he was just now realizing how much. The nerves under his fingernails and toes itched. He was able to tilt his head, watching his fingers twitch as feeling began to return to them, but still, he had no control over them. He growled in frustration and bit his lip, the inner corner of his right side and squeezed his eyes closed. Strained pants were the only thing that he could hear, and he was ashamed they were his own.

He closed his eyes again, trying to piece together exactly what was happening to him before his dark eyes flitted open. This was not the place he remembered being last. Everything was out of order, nothing complete, nothing made sense. Why was he here?

He felt his legs jolt subconsciously and shake. He craned his head up to look at them in the dull light and shoved his heels into the slick floor and attempted to move back towards the wall. His left leg gave out quickly, then his right.

“Fuck!” He hissed and curled his gloved fingers as much as he could into his palms to give himself more stability. He mustered his willpower to give himself a shove and move his otherwise useless body to a place where at least his back would be covered, where he wasn’t out in the very center of a strange room. He knew better than to leave himself prone to attack. That was Rule Number 1 that had been branded into his brain. Survival. This was how fools died, and he was no fool.

His actions earned him a fresh round of pain that made him want to rip his hair out, except he still couldn’t use his arms other than the meager amount that allowed him to inch towards the wall. The pressure behind his eyes was too much, too much. It’d been a long while since he had to endure this type of pain.

But it’d pass, it always did.

His awareness began to make him paranoid, where were his weapons? This looked like a Manifestation. This felt like the Metaverse. Was this a safe area? He strained his ears to listen to something else besides his labored breath and pulse that finally began to calm down as the tingling burn that plagued his body began to subside. He didn’t hear anything. Thankfully. He pulled one of his arms close to him, with difficulty. Propping his palm on the cold ground once again, he gave one desperate shove to hoist his body up and grit his teeth in pain as he managed to sit up and lean against the slate metal wall. His jaw clenched as he let out a pained whine. But he was no longer some useless body in the middle of the floor.

Finally.

He was able to survey his surroundings better. His weapons were not here.

Rule Number 2, always be aware of your weapons, fools die without weapons.

He cursed under his breath and let his head rest against the wall. Everything was beginning to feel closer to normal now.

Was he shot?

Yes, he was shot.

Right in the head, if he remembered correctly?

By who?

A cognition, of course.

Then why was he still alive?

The silence was deafening now but… it wasn’t so terrible, being quiet like this. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to handle anything above a whisper right now, so he welcomed the sound of absolute nothingness. He forced his eyes open again to keep himself from succumbing to sleep. It was difficult, but considering he had just been dead, the idea of sleep wasn’t very becoming. No matter how tired he was.

“Okay… enough of this. Move.” He whispered, his tone light and practiced like he was in front of an audience.

Using the wall behind him, he pushed his body up it. His arms strained in protest of his weight and he almost stumbled forward, but he managed to gain his balance. He held onto a bar that was framed into the structure and took a step, his knees buckling under his own weight. This was humiliating. He was above such things and yet, here he was, learning how to walk again. How long had it been since he died? He gripped the wall for support and walked, only stumbling a few more times.

He scanned the room again, desperate for some silver glint to indicate weapons, his case, anything.

There wasn’t anything in the room besides sagging cardboard boxes and cobwebs. That was frustrating. How was he supposed to get out of here without his phone? He checked his right wrist, looking for the watch that usually sat there. Nothing. Shit.

When his cognition shot him, did he also rob his corpse? Maybe someone did… Hypothetical situations... it was pointless to dwell any more on this.

Even if it was a pretty humorous though, the image of himself pilfering through his items and taking things he vitally needed. And now here he was completely unprepared for whatever was outside this room. Anything could have been out there, swarms of Shadows ready to take his head without any means to escape in case of that scenario. He'd get through it. He always did. But it was going to be challenging.

He gave his leg a stretch after he felt better enough to do so, ignoring the dull throb of pain it brought him. It was something he could just disregard now. It wasn’t important.

Good. He could start trying to figure out how to get out of here.

And find his phone.

And his weapons.

There was a crash outside the heavily bolted door that made him jump out of his current train of thought. That was the problem with Manifestations of Desire, they always were unpredictable to a degree… because the humans that projected them were as unpredictable.

He was able to move to the door and after waiting a few moments to listen for any more disturbances. He opened the door ajar as the metal groaned in protest and peered outside.

There was a giant Shadow obscuring most of the hallway of what looked like a jailhouse. Great. Well, that confirmed two things; one he was definitely alive and two, he was definitely stuck in a Manifestation. Fate really wasn’t done messing with him yet, was it?

What a fickle bitch.

He retreated back to the safe area, watching the walls tremor with his movements. At least he didn’t end up in an infested area. He finally took a look down at himself and sighed, bringing his hand up to rub at the prickling pain that still lingered in his temples. He was still in his uniform. Whoever this belonged to didn’t perceive him as a threat. Fantastic. Either way, he needed to wrap his head around the situation before coming up with a plan. He could still feel the hum of power in his veins, the presence of his Personas rooted in his spine. So at least he wasn’t completely disarmed.

He shrugged off his jacket and threaded his fingers through his hair, massaging the nape of his neck before tilting his head to try to rid himself of the crick that resided there. His fingers grazed over a scar and he sighed. His hair was annoying him as it stuck to his neck. It was warm in here.

He wanted to leave and bathe and regroup himself. Who knows how long it’d take to relocate his phone?

Not that he was unused to being inside Manifestations for long periods of time. It was just uncomfortable, especially being this unprepared for traversing a place he had no previous knowledge of. But his record was a week and a half. He was sure he could go longer if he had to. Food was never an issue in Manifestations unless a Shadow hit him with hunger. He’d have to pay close attention to that and defend against it if it came down to it. He was sure he could loot some areas of the jailhouse too...

He could easily steal a weapon from a Shadow as well… that would help him make progress.

His neck itched from the sweat that collected under his hair. It was getting harder to concentrate.

His dark eyes landed on his jacket and he heaved a very heavy sigh. It wasn’t going to do him any good here, but the thread and fabric would. He had another one back home so sacrificing wasn’t a big deal. If he even had a need for the spare anymore.  He picked out a loose thread and placed it between his teeth. He yanked it out and broke it, then picked the seam loose and ripped the lining of his coat out. It wasn’t pretty but it’d do. Shame it wasn’t elastic but he’d make it work. He continued to rip the fabric until he had a strip that he wrapped around his hair to lift it from the nape of his neck. The air hitting his bare neck was as close to refreshing as it could be. He secured the fabric with the loose thread and knotted it. That was much better. He rolled up his sleeves and unbuttoned the top button. He lifted his tie off his neck and pocketed it, sure it would be of some use to him later.

He discarded his gloves into the small pile with his jacket.

He let out a soft sigh of relief. Not ideal, but it was a start.

He gave a look at his surroundings again. This was not Shido’s ship. This was not the engine room, or anywhere else on that godforsaken boat. He had been in almost every room in the place in his hunt for the Phantom Thieves, praying to whatever god that they weren’t actually stupid enough to try to take that disgusting piece of shit of a man down before he had his chance.

It would have been worth the jail time to expose the man and put a bullet between his eyes after all this. Something he had strived for in the last couple of years. It grew to a festering obsession that could not be quelled by anything but the downfall of Shido. Then he could finally rest and rot away. It was worth his life to destroy Shido’s.

Kurusu Akira had been practice. Nothing personal when he sought to take him out of the picture... except it had been... incredibly personal.

Not from the desire to actually do it, but the very opposite.

He hadn't wanted to do it. It was hard enough going into Niijima's Palace for the few days before the calling card deadline to practice on the cognitive version of the other teenager. Another advantage to seeing them all in the courtroom was that Niijima’s awareness of Kurusu specifically meant he had been easier to find. And easy to manipulate as she didn’t understand who Kurusu really was. Just some soft-spoken teenager who knew her younger sister and had some connection to him. There was no challenge really to lure the cognitive version of Kurusu away to some secluded area. Each pull of the trigger hadn't made the actual act easier, as he had hoped. But logic outweighed his sentiment. He had come too far, done too much to turn back. He had crossed the point of no return when Isshiki Wakaba died.

But still...

It just had to be Kurusu, didn't it?

Of all the people the Phantom Thieves could have been, it just had to be him. Kurusu was interesting to him, humorous and inviting. He had been drawn to him from the very moment he laid eyes on him in the TV studio shortly after his birthday. He was quick-witted and challenged him… not interested in his climb to fame, nor the popularity surrounding him. He wasn’t interested in his public image, nor did he seem judgemental when he came to him to simply talk. Kurusu was a flame that warmed him and threatened to burn him at the same time. He had come to terms with that since he started visiting Leblanc. That he enjoyed Kurusu’s company, that he made him feel comfortable to be around… no projection of this perfected image he had spent years crafting was needed. Not that he ever let his guard slip up completely after all Kurusu was just someone he knew… and someone whose company he enjoyed.

Well, until he confirmed that he was the leader of the Phantom Thieves when he followed them in Roppongi. It was just a feeling he couldn’t shake. Though Kurusu’s deadpanned jokes about being Phantom Thieves harbored some hallmark of truth that stuck to the back of his mind, he dismissed them as just that, jokes. Kurusu had a very blunt sense of humor that he enjoyed so it was easy to write off every hint that stumbled through his sloppy teammates’ mouths as such, in retrospect. But that changed from ignorance to fact when he saw them all that September day. But he hadn’t intended on actually following them, just happened to see Kurusu leaving the station while he was unlocking his bike to go home after a meeting. He wished he hadn’t followed them now. Just remained intentionally ignorant. But knowing that the person he felt closest to was now someone he was destined to get rid of…

Another one of fate's stupid games. At this point in his life, he should have expected it. He wasn't allowed to have anything without destroying it eventually. Slowly, he corrupted just about everything he touched. That was his purpose in life, the one bestowed upon him anyway. He usually took the role with gusto, having already fallen down the rabbit’s hole when he put Isshiki into the early death bed she belonged in. He dug his own grave with her’s. It was fine though, as long as he destroyed Shido completely and witnessed his demise, he was okay.

Except he had been denied that, robbed of that joy by a group of misfits seeking their own brand of justice, with that same curly haired, soft-spoken, perfectly average boy leading them... the one he sought out with the hope of-

Something he couldn't name. Or wouldn't allow himself to name. There was no sense getting more attached at that point, knowing full well he was going to have to murder him. Shido would have wanted it done before the election. He couldn't spare him so he told himself he didn't want to. He blamed Leblanc’s atmosphere for his draw to it, and not the off chance that Kurusu was working that day. He definitely didn’t want to see him, and he most certainly didn’t look over at the door every time the bells jingled with expectations. He didn’t let his coffee go cold just for the excuse to stay and wait. He just liked being there. He didn’t seek Kurusu out to grow closer, some little piece of him begging for a sense of normality in his chaotic life. He didn’t want Kurusu to interfere with his plans, but more importantly, he didn’t want to compromise his plans for someone else.

But he did, actually. Which was why he was so loose-lipped about his postulations of the culprit, a silent plea of help that went unanswered. He ended up putting a bullet in his head anyway. He was not a victim, he could not bring himself to beg for help like the others had. He couldn’t put Shido’s name on the Phan-site, though tempting as it was. He wanted his name smeared with shame and his pride smashed to pieces at his feet. He wanted Shido to grovel before the world and beg for forgiveness and justice to laugh at him.  Kurusu’s death was a necessary evil, one he took great care to try to distance himself from. Though he still got sick immediately afterward, as soon as he turned the corner from the hallway where he performed his greatest acting yet.

So when Shido started behaving erratically, demanding he tie up every loose end, he wondered if the things he had noticed during the whole exchange leading up to him shooting Kurusu were a ruse. At the time he thought he had been imagining things, hanging on the chance that he didn’t do another terrible thing to someone he actually cared about.

He remembered sighing in relief as his suspicions about Kurusu still being alive were confirmed with his own eyes. He watched them fight, in the rafters above the cognitive version of Shido's Cleaner. He observed Joker meticulously, a small seed of relief blossomed in his lungs and threatened to choke him and he smothered the flowers that grew inside. The idiot was alive and a bit sloppier in his fighting style than he had been in Niijima’s Manifestation. If it hadn’t been for his teammates picking up the slack, he would have been downed several times over. It made him angry, that he had such people backing him up, where he had no one but himself. More than angry… it made him lonely, realizing that no one had covered his back for the two or so years he had been doing this. But with every shake of Joker’s hand as he drew his knife, the half a step back and flinches he gave when the enemy came for him with a physical attack, he began to feel guilt gnaw away at his stomach. The once smug Joker was quieter than usual, reserved, looking more like Kurusu than this grand leader he painted himself to be. And Kurusu was faltering. He was sure it had everything to do with the police. Or the stress of the situation. Or both. 

He knew how that felt, and some small part of him, the same part that tried to bloom into hope as he watched them, ached with that guilt. And now he had to get rid of them for the greater good. If the idiots would have just waited a few more weeks… he could have spared them. But they were pigheaded and blinded by justice. It was funny, because so was he.

It was a struggle between them and could only end with one of them still standing. In that fight, he cast that idea of justice aside to break down his mask and reveal how he really felt. It was liberating. And yet-

Yet he was the one who died, even after he had accepted the Phantom Thieves' offer of camaraderie. Even after his own repressed thoughts and actions spilled out of him like a sinner in a church confessing before God. They still accepted him.

But he died there.

And here he stood now, stretching his once dead-weighted arms and flexing his fingers, trying to come up with a plan while getting lost in his own thoughts again. Fate wasn't done with him yet.

He shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck, a small smile present on his face but meant for no one.

What was important now was getting out of this place, wherever he was. Though what he labeled as Crow on a whim was his most recent disguise, he wasn’t too surprised it maintained its form when entering Shido’s ship to find the Phantom Thieves. But it was startling that either outfit hadn’t wrapped around him yet.

Quietly he walked over, with much more ease than before, to open the door, seeing the coast was clear. In his times in Manifestations, he learned several things- about the Metaverse but more importantly about Shadows themselves. They were incredibly stupid. They wouldn’t notice small details as a human would. He fished the tie out of his pocket and undid the seam holding the back together and ripped out the facing on the inside. He quickly tied it around the handle of the archaic looking door. Another problem with Manifestations was that as unpredictable as their owner’s, that meant the inside layout could be just as distorted as the desires that they were built on. He had seen uniformity like this a few times. It was safe to assume that meant that every single area tended to look the same. Whoever this belonged to felt septic and cold. At least this way, he knew that he had already been in this area, and knew of a rest area he could take refuge in if needed.

He ventured out into the hall, taking a deep breath and soundlessly began to explore. He found quickly he was right in his deductions, this Manifestation was stagnant and simple. Though he couldn’t speak to whom it belonged, he could tell by the sheer size of it that it had either been something that was built over a long period of time or formed by sudden life-altering events. He wondered just how quickly he’d find the entrance… or his briefcase. His body was still in a bit of shock from being jolted back to consciousness, but dwelling on it wasn’t a smart move. He needed his mind focused on the tasks ahead of him because the longer he stayed in here the higher the odds of him getting injured.

He had been through many Manifestations alone, though usually with resources for healing himself or at least bandaging himself up. The only company beside him was his Personas. He lost count of just how many Manifestations of Desire he had been in, how many targets he took out, how many experiments he had been a part of. This was a cakewalk, any of them he had encountered now were simple. To survive in the world, he developed a keen sense of instinct and shrewd observation skills. Because one simple clue could be the unraveling of the fortresses he ventured in. He learned that quickly under Isshiki Wakaba’s guidance when he was taken under her wing. Leave no stone unturned, no door closed. 

He hadn’t run into any Shadows yet, the bareness of this Manifestation was a bit concerning. There could be few spawning points, or they could be gathered in an area to protect the “Treasure” as the Phantom Thieves called it. Either way, it did nothing but raise red flags for him to be on higher alert. If he was ambushed like this, he would be at the disadvantage. The ache in his legs was starting to return, it was probably too soon for him to have started out but he did his best to ignore it. The less time he took inside the Metaverse constructions, the better. 

His gaze lifted to the walls of the jailhouse, scanning for any type of security devices. He hadn’t seen a single trace of any sort of camera or alarm in what seemed like several hours. Of course it could have just been his boredom with the lack of anything engaging him that was making time pass slowly. Either way, he had no ability to keep track with his phone out of the picture. As long as he wasn’t in here for a week, he should be okay. Nine days was the absolute longest he could probably last without exhausting both of his Persona of magic and strength. His golden record in the Theater Manifestation just over two years ago, a few months before Isshiki walked in front of a speeding car.

The theater incident, as he referred to it whenever he let his mind wander through important lessons he had learned through the years, had been a year after Isshiki had plucked him out of the hell he was living in with bait about his mother's death and a hope to find his father’s identity. She had taken him in and let him stay in the spare apartment close to the Nanjo Group Laboratories she was the head researcher of. She let him live alone as long as he agreed to be her test subject for this pscience she was so adamant about. At the time, he didn’t see any reason to refuse. After being thrown around everywhere and never staying for too long in one place, the idea of solitude was appealing to him. It was better than a closed fist in his face at the hands of strangers who ‘tended’ to him and much better than starving on the streets. Isshiki promised him grand tales of his mother, having worked with her in the past. She enticed him with sweet stories of revenge as they bonded over the things he had endured in the years since his mother killed herself.

It had been nice to have an adult listen to him for once. Someone he could turn to and speak his insecurities and troubles too. She had never spoken of her own life, except when it related to his mother. He enjoyed listening to her talk and teach him about this bizarre world called the Metaverse and these creatures called Persona that reminded him of Sentai and watching Featherman with his mother long ago. He was more than willing to dedicate himself to Isshiki’s research, his trust in her grew as strong as his will to survive in this world.

With her help, she promised he’d grow powerful and take revenge on the one who drove his mother to her death.

With her help, he learned how to cope with his situation and adapt to the real world, and the one that existed between mind and matter, Manifestations, as she called them. She taught him the in’s and out’s and tricks to surviving in worlds within worlds. Every step he took in Manifestations had been under her guidance and he quickly became very competent in the ways of the Metaverse. Just like he was now, in this giant prison, wondering just who had such a bland outlook on their own existence. 

Every door he encountered in the long hallway of the prison he stopped at and tried to open the handles. Many were locked but the ones that opened he found only a solid cement wall. Fake doors were always such an annoyance when trying to get beyond a certain point, but easy enough to avoid the second go around.

Rounding a corner in the jail he came across a rather large, empty room, but the glint of a camera caught his attention. It wasn’t facing him so he was easily able to duck back into the hallway. At least now he knew there was a system in place. This place wasn’t quite as run down as it first appeared. With security, precautions came guards and Shadows so it was time to stop for a bit. He had come quite a distance and the growing pain in his legs was beginning to slow him down. It would not be ideal to run into any trouble right now. He doubled back, taking the remaining pieces of his tie out and marked every few doors with shredded bits of fabric, a trail of breadcrumbs for him to follow to lead back to the area. When he returned back to the room he woke in, he realized just how tired he was. The idea of sleep was still not appealing to him but in his mind timbering whispers of encouragement to rest were starting to win him over.

“Okay stop nagging at me already, I get it.” He mumbled aloud and heard nothing but Loki laugh in response, some tickling chuckle that sent chills down his spine. Both of his Persona knew his limitations and how much he enjoyed pushing them on occasion. And both took turns reminding him that he needed to take things slower sometimes or it would end up badly for him.

He rolled his shoulders before stretching his legs and arms. Though his limbs were heavy again, he felt better loosening them up before he dragged some of the slumped boxes to the far corner of the room to fashion a makeshift bed of sorts. He sat down, positioning himself to keep his eyes on the door, just in case anything opened it, or to prepare himself for combat if needed.

Still, how strange this was to him, to still be alive, breathing the warm stale air of a Manifestation where he had no objective except his own survival. He pulled his knees to his chest, deciding to just rest while sitting up. His vision began to waver as his eyelids grew heavy, his mind reeling from possibilities and choices. The last decision he made was one he didn’t regret, even now looking back. He had given his all during that fight, every shred of composure stripped away from he as he bore his soul to people he wouldn’t even now call friends. And yet, he understood now, when Isshiki told him that bonds of those close helped the heart grow stronger. He completely understood now, that his bond with Kurusu was one that would not be broken. That vow broke something inside of him, some chain that dragged him down, tethering him to the very ideals of justice his foundation was built on. Maybe that’s why he was still alive, his bond, perhaps.

He rubbed his eyes, keeping them trained on the door, making a silent promise to himself that this was a renewed chance, a way to prove himself. He was special after all, right? He subconsciously grazed his fingers over the jagged scar, massaging the knotted flesh that ran from the base of his skull down to the collar of his shirt. Sometimes, he imagined he could feel the plume of dusk, the very essence of the god, Nyx, residing in his spine. That’s what made him special, that piece of a god being implanted into him, allowing him two Persona. Only very few could achieve that. At least that’s what Isshiki had told him. 

His potential to even summon a Persona was admirable, though not as strong as Isshiki’s initial expectation. He remembered the day as she had put him in the Metaverse for the first time without any kind of armament or weapon or guiding hand. He had been training for this encounter for months after his tests came back positive for potential in being a Persona User. He had been more than ready, dreaming of the raw power that he would harness. When she placed him in a populated area, he hardly had time to notice his clothing change to a dark suit and helmet. He could only stare in horror as the large creature, a Shadow, started to rush at him. He thought he was going to die, right there and then. All the training left his head, he was numb. It was then that something inside him cracked, some raw survival instinct formed a hazy orb and flashed brightly in front of him, shielding him from an attack from the Shadow. It was enough to survive the encounter that he was promptly pulled out of entirely. At first, he thanked her and she praised him for his work. Though his potential had not been fully unlocked, she still saw the spark of greatness in him and dedicated herself to his success. She told him these things sometimes took time but they would work on it together.

He felt needed and valuable, finally able to contribute to something amazing. Especially after his Persona took form in another encounter, this time against a foe far more powerful than he was probably ready for. But the vow formed between him and the giant Robin Hood was his motivation, his strength and he couldn’t have done it without Isshiki’s guidance and support. Isshiki had proved time and time again he could trust her with anything within the few months he had already been in her care. 

It was a trust that tarnished and deteriorated in the coming years. He learned a lot of very difficult lessons but he thanked her for it all, in the end. He had become wiser to the world of adults and the selfishness that resided in them thanks to her. 

When he woke up again, it was not as before. There was no pain now, no pressure in his head and no struggle for air. There was only the scent of damp boxes and life in his lungs. He stretched and yawned loudly, kicking his legs out to point his toes and felt his spine pop uncomfortably from the movement.

His dark brown eyes flitted around the room, and a heavy sigh left his lips. A Manifestation. What was it that the Phantom Thieves called it? A Palace? He almost preferred that to the clinical sound of Manifestations. Even if it sounded juvenile. 

He pulled himself to a standing position, taking a glance down to see that his clothes had not yet changed. By now, whoever resided here, in this Palace, must know some outsider was here, right? Unless they were willingly ignorant of his intrusion.

Either way, he wouldn’t get answers until he got started. He heard hums of approval from Robin Hood, who was always much quieter than his more crude counterpart. In fact, the most he had ever really heard Robin talk to him was in the beginning… when he first awoke completely to the power of Persona. He could barely recall the words whispered to him but remembered the agency in his voice although it was calm and soothing. Especially in comparison to Loki who’s laughter was almost infectious and overbearing. Loki only spoke to him in whispers as well, something his two Persona shared. For the most part, they were both quiet though. He had often wondered if any of the others who had similar power to him were constantly spoken to and guided. 

He stripped the rest of his jacket lining, to again provide some marker of areas he had been and folded them into his pants pocket.

This time it didn’t take him long to find a Shadow and intercept it. He needed a weapon and an ambush was the perfect opportunity. At long last, his clothing peeled away from him to strap him in the dark body suit he had grown accustomed to since his first time he entered the Metaverse. Even if the belts that strapped his limbs were a bit too tight for his liking, it was easy to wretch away the gun from the Shadow and he instantly felt more relief having a weapon in his hand. The heft was something that comforted him. He was strong, but given how Isshiki had tampered with his Persona, he sometimes had difficulty controlling Loki. He wasn’t supposed to have had him in the first place, given that the natural progression of Robin Hood gave way to the birth of Loki, somehow. But he had both and that was sometimes combustible. 

Guns were reliable as long as he could pull a trigger. He checked the barrel of the gun and sighed. Only two bullets? Ridiculous. He would have to steal another gun at some point if he could get one.

He followed his metaphorical breadcrumbs back to the clearing where he first encountered the surveillance cameras. He wanted to find another safe area quickly in case he needed a tactical retreat. He squinted into the dark hall across from him, something new catching his attention. Were the cameras… wired? He almost barked out a laugh of disbelief. Whoever this Palace belonged to… they didn’t have a very good sense of self-preservation, did they? Anyone who felt they were worth protecting would have better coping mechanisms than a rundown security system whose wires could easily be followed. 

One rule was to always disable the ability for the enemy to sense you.

That would be the next step he would take.

He did a quick scan to see if there were any more cameras in his projected path. He focused in on the walls and found nothing to indicate any relays lingering in the sheet metal. It felt like a trap, an ominous lure. But nothing ventured was nothing gained. He watched the camera sputter on its axis and moved. Quickly. 

When he had cleared the other side of the room, he saw more cameras, all haphazardly set up. It was almost like this person was begging to be explored. It was kind of exciting. They knew they were terrible and invited intruders in with this half-assed layout. A monitor sat in the high corner of a turn but was shut off. He probably could have just walked in front of a camera and nothing would have happened but it was better to be safe than sorry.

He cautiously navigated the new area marking every few doors he happened upon after attempting to open them. The only difference with these doors were that they opened to a small closet, that housed stairs that led only to a low ceiling. Weird. All these fake doors that led essentially nowhere. It was far too reminiscent of the theatre for his liking. It left a chill in his body.

It had been nine days of being alone and struggling through that theatre and he had almost given up at that point. Robin Hood was just as exhausted as he was. Beaten and bruised, exhaustion wearing in his bones that creaked in protest when he moved. Shadow after Shadow he fought. He hid when he could and was grateful his suit in the Metaverse was black, causing him to blend into the dark areas of the grand theatre. He desperately called for Isshiki one last time through the phone she had given him. No answer. He could only brace himself for the inevitable blow of defeat, still relying on the one person who had shown him a great deal of kindness. He thought he was going to die, truly die without accomplishing anything he resolved himself to. Just as he fell to the ground, he saw a flash of light, then darkness.

He vaguely recalled Isshiki’s fuzzy image swimming in his vision. That’s when a wall of pain collapsed onto him all at once and he promptly blacked out again. He had strange memories of dreams he had where he was ensnared in vines and thorns pierced his skin and torn into him. When he cried out a hand like a mask clamped over his mouth. When he tried to open his eyes they stung like poison had rained into his pupils, drip by drip until he was completely blind and unable to scream in pain. All he could feel was the sensation of the thorns pricking through his skin, his organs, and shredding him every time he tried to get out of their grip. The stinging in his eyes was unbearable, like a creature had dug its way under his eyelids and nested there, feasting on the wells of venom that blinded him. But all of the sudden… it stopped.

There was a softness that engulfed him. A rumbling, smokey voice that shook his entire being told him he would do nicely. That gentle brush of feathers across his skin made the thorns retract and retreat. The touch of wings that surrounded him and encased him, numbing the pain and felt warm and comforting to his broken down body. He found his voice, the obstruction lifting from his mouth. He could not see, could not even open his eyes to try to make sense of what was happening around him.

“Who are you?” He asked, his voice timid and noticeably fearful.

“Me?” The voice purred through every cut in his body, every puncture, every scratch. He tried to get away, but the caress of wings held him fast.

“I am what you make me. You will do nicely.”

And with that, he finally opened again. But to the real world. There was a pain in his neck that impeded him from taking survey of his surroundings but Isshiki was there to explain that he had a reaction to a Metaverse ailment while exiting and he had to have emergency surgery to ensure he would live.

It was the first time a new voice, one he learned later would be called Loki, had ever spoken to him, a soft whisper of  _ “Liar” _ against the shell of his ear. The gentle baritone of Robin Hood echoed the new voice in his head.

And he knew then that the woman in front of him was not the one to trust.

It was as if he had seen her for the first time ever for what she truly was. No doubt she was a sweet woman, in a way that a candied apple was sweet. Tantalizingly delicious looking until you bit into it, to have the caramel coated outside stick to your teeth and fill your mouth with such cloying sweetness that the tart taste of the apple then stung your jaw. That's the type of person Isshiki Wakaba was. And she belonged in the grave he helped her dig. He was strong, he was still here, doing what he had been trained to do. He never lost sight of his plan again, even though, admittedly, he carried it too far in retrospect. 

But now was a second chance, right? Something fate didn’t allow a lot of people. He was convinced from that point on that the voice that belonged to neither Loki nor Robin Hood belonged to this divine being he labeled fate. And it was fate that brought him to this Palace, following the lines of wire to a giant, unguarded room with dashboards lining each wall. 

It was also in the room that he almost messed up, not expecting anyone to be in it as it was unguarded from the outside. However, the brim of a hat was what caught his attention and made him take a step back, pressing himself flush against the threshold of the entryway. He was lucky the door was already open. However, he was unlucky that he hadn’t found a safe area yet since the first that he woke up in. 

He peeked around the corner, seeing the figure cladded in a standard blue colored uniform that mimicked prison guards standing with his back to the entryway. Seemed that this was the Master Shadow, it was apparent from his stance and movements, hadn’t realized he was there. He was grateful he didn’t barge in, scolding himself with reinforcement from Robin Hood’s disappointed hum.

He let out a soft breath he didn’t realize he was holding and watched the Shadow’s behavior. The form was simply gazing at the screen in front of him, which appeared to be a long, bright hall filled with cells.

It didn’t take a detective to deduce that there was some reason for this high security and that this thing in the room was the ‘ruler’ of this Palace. This seemed to be a high profile area, and even though unguarded, fit with the mental state reflected in the dreary walls of this prison. There was something that unsettled him, though. This stance, the way the Shadow held itself. Those slightly slumped shoulders, that attempted to hold themselves upright, the tapping sound that resonated through the room of toes, not heels, of shoes against the ground…

There was an eerie familiarity about it. 

But he hoped he was wrong.

Footsteps approaching the room broke him from his hypothesis and made him instantly retreat far away from them, but close enough to be in earshot. He caught a glimpse of another cognition that almost solidified his earlier guess. Sakura Futaba, though shorter in stature, was highly recognizable through her brightly colored hair which stood out even more against a blue guard uniform. He saw her tense nervously at the door and solute with awkward hand movements that almost made him laugh. 

“S-sir!” He heard her squeak and clamber into the room as he drew closer to his original hiding spot to listen in.

“Oracle, please.” He stopped mid-step. Was that… Kurusu?

“I did as you asked! But I couldn’t find the guard that was supposed to report back.” 

There was silence besides for her loudly tapping her own feet in rhythm.

“You didn’t?”

“N-no, sir I didn’t.”

“Then what,  _ exactly _ , are you doing back here? Go find him immediately and bring him to me.” The cold voice that originated from this Shadow was nothing like he had ever heard from Kurusu before. The tone and intonation were off. Surely, this isn’t how Kurusu saw himself, right? He stole another look around the corner, his curiosity besting him. The taller of the two figures was towering over the long-haired girl in front of him, making her appear even smaller than she normally was. The usual snippy and confident air about her completely gone. She played with a jagged edge of her hair and seemed to be refusing to look at him. 

“That’s… that’s not what-” She let out a startled yip of surprise when his fist smacked against one of the walls. 

Every indication of her body told him that she was afraid of him. 

“I don’t have all day, just say what you are trying to and stop wasting my time. That’s all you lot ever do.” It was then that he got a full view of the Shadow that was barking commands. He didn’t know why his heart sped up quite that fast seeing Kurusu. It’s not that he was particularly eye-catching. In fact, he was beyond average, but there was something about the snide smile that curled on his lips like wisps of smoke that burned him. He had seen many Shadows that resembled the owners of Manifestations… but none seemed as odd to him as this. The eyes of this prison guard, this Warden, were hostile and wide. His hair was pulled back neatly into a standard looking cap but there was no softness in his features that resembled Kurusu at all. Nothing about this man felt like the boy he had come to know in the last year. Nothing about this person who was yelling at this girl was Kurusu. There was no understanding hum, a thought of diplomacy, a compassionate lull to his voice. Only the cold, rugged exterior of someone jaded by the world. It didn’t seem possible...

Yet it was him. It shouldn’t have been possible, at least that’s what Isshiki had told him once… those who possessed Persona could not become distorted and produce Manifestations. Though, distorted was a funny word to use. He could not deny that his own sense to justice had blinded him to seeing the error of his ways. It was the Phantom Thieves that truly opened his eyes, to show him the world was not as black and white as he saw it before.

Yet, here their leader was, yellow eyes staring down with a cruelty he never expected to see

someone as kind and free as Kurusu had seemed. 

But if this Palace, this Manifestation of Desire belonged to him, something was horribly wrong. As far as he knew, simple delinquents didn’t foster such fortresses.

Sakura finally found her voice, a soft, meek mumble and the Shadow of her Leader demanded a louder answer.

“I think he was terminated, sir!”

It was then that he knew they were talking about the Shadow he robbed earlier. Seemed this place was more put together than it appeared. He didn’t need to hear more though, he needed to leave. A small alarm went off in his head that he needed to retreat because things were about to get ugly and he only had two bullets to immediately fend off anything and anyone.

He could hear Sakura being scolded from down the hall and more crashing noises. 

Nothing he could do about it though, she was just a cognition and had no reflection on the real Sakura. There was no point stepping in. What he needed to do was figure out how to get out of the area and make progress forward. He figured from the monitors that trying to find those cells would be the next place to start. Fortunately, fate smiled down on him again and he found another safe area amongst the doors he discovered in the very next area over. He took a few minutes to gather his thoughts so he could push them aside. So he wouldn’t be distracted by them in the middle of his next plan. He leaned against the door, adjusting the tightened belts on his arms.

Those who produced Manifestations were evil, the bad guys, the ones who ruined the lives of others. So… how on earth was Kurusu in here? Why a prison of all places? Exactly what had changed to make this a possibility? There were too many questions that revolved around one jarring truth, that Kurusu was in charge of this place. Was his heart not free? 

His teeth ground together in frustration, this whole idea throwing him off of his sense of right and wrong, evil and just. The Kurusu he knew was not evil and was not in a sense ‘right’ either. He was this giant gray area in his mind that filled him with hope and possibility. For once, he was not ready to just shoot someone’s Shadow and be done with it, he wanted answers. And getting out of here and getting a grasp on the situation was the only way to do it. If only he had his briefcase here, his phone to get him back to the real world. He needed answers.

There were too many scenarios, but he knew talking to this Shadow was not going to yield him results. What he would walk into would be too dangerous and too frustrating. He knew that from experience, trying to talk to Isshiki’s Shadow when he entered her Manifestation. Talking to Niijima’s Shadow in the Casino. Nothing good came of it, the truth was sometimes more painful to hear when it was unfiltered by the human psyche.

He gathered his thoughts and firmly decided the cells were going to be the next area he explored. He secured the handle of the door with a scrap of his uniform and left the safe room to go back to the area where the Shadow was. It seemed that the guard going missing lured him out of the room. Another lucky break. He crept in, still wondering why on earth this place remained unguarded. Maybe the Shadow just didn’t trust anyone but himself to monitor the confines of the prison. Or maybe Kurusu wanted to be compromised.

He rummaged around quickly, finding a layout of the prison and committed it to memory as it stood behind glass. He was close to the cells, but far enough away that it would make a great distraction if he ransacked this place. He didn’t want to be detected in the cell room after all. It looked like there was only one entrance and thus, one exit.

He studied the area surrounding the cells and compared it to the location and route he took to find the brand new safe room. Triangulating the room on the map, he let out a sigh of relief that it was a good midway point between the cells and the monitoring room. This became a time-sensitive operation that was thrilling to him but left him conflicted about the subject of Kurusu’s Palace he would be destroying pieces of. But it had to be done. He wasted no time kicking in the metal panels below the control boards pulling every single bit of wiring he could find, even if they shocked him a bit in doing so. If Kurusu wanted to make this so easy, he’d oblige. It was the least he could do. The screens above him cut off, the feed going fuzzy and sirens promptly started then stopped due to the destruction of the system. Either way, his plan was in motion and he needed to be in motion as well. Quickly. 

He managed to avoid every Shadow that swarmed the hall, beating them by several minutes and made his way to the cell room. All his work in the Metaverse and all his work as a detective feed into each other, his hyper observation skills that he honed in the world of the cognitive aided his work in the real world. He was able to dodge detection and found his way to the cells rather easily from memorizing the map he found in the control room. He suspected maybe he would find another way out, or a secret path there, which was why it was so heavily watched by cameras.

However, he found himself to be quite… wrong.

And he found it to be to his disliking. The room was unlocked which was odd but he didn’t question it, knowing that he destroyed the security system, maybe he just unlocked the door. He got a bit sloppy, he should have checked the door beforehand but there was no time to reflect on that as he entered the blindingly white room. His heart was beating erratically in his chest. Maybe his briefcase would be there.

But no, to his dismay, it was his own face that greeted him. Well, half of his face, the other side was coated in dried blood. It didn’t take long to decide that of all the cognitive versions of him that existed that he had met; this is the one he hated the most.

He watched himself grin, some wide, stupid grin that made him shudder. He didn’t know his face could look like that… It was different than the cognition that masqueraded as him in the ship… the one he took absolute pleasure in shooting.

This one was… deranged. That was something he had seen plenty of times… he could smell it off of this cognition. It reeked of desperation.

It began to speak to him, a garbled mix of words that made no sense to him. The high pitch tones of his own voice broke to deep, temper-filled anger that gave way to whimpers… begging. 

“That is-I expected-too nervous. H-Hold on a moment-to have bothered you!” The cognition began to struggle behind the bars, hissing in pain, turning to him again, eyes filled with something greater than fear. It was chilling. 

It was grating on his ears. But he couldn’t bring himself to move from the spot, like he was rooted down to the floor. He knew he had to leave, there was nothing here worth investigating more. Just this. Whatever this was. 

“Hey~” The cognition called out, a mocking, teasing tone that made his jaw lock and the hairs on the back of his neck, surrounding his scar, stand on end. 

“What?” He answered, not quite sure why he felt the urge to respond.

“I was thinking…” He laughed and threw his head back against the wall of the cell. “About Joker.”

His fingers curled around the gun that he didn’t recall grabbing. The cognition sat up with grand, exaggerated motions. “Joker, right? Joker.”

And on it went. The only thing now passing the lips of this mess was the codename “Joker”. He swallowed hard and watched, mesmerized. Did he ever look so pathetic to Kurusu? How shameful. 

He aimed and shot with not a second of hesitation, watching the cognition break down into a puddle of black mass. He thought Shido’s cognition of him was jarring and disturbing but this one…

He left without a second thought to the matter, this was not the place to get lost in thought. The sacrifice of the bullet was well worth placating his temper. His anger got the better of him but he didn’t feel he could have just left, knowing that that thing… was still there. He knew it was irrational, he knew it would spawn again after a certain amount of time. But it still felt satisfactory. He wondered if that’s how shooting Kurusu should have felt.

But maybe, the fact that it didn’t feel  _ good _ was just evidence that he wasn’t completely lost yet. His humanity was still there. No one robbed him of that, be it man or fate. He could change things still… even if it took the rest of his life.

He almost subconsciously brought himself back to the safe area… it may have been Robin Hood guiding his feet but the cold, damp room welcomed him without incident. He was suddenly incredibly tired and the strength was quickly leaving his legs. He made another makeshift area to rest in. It would be good to retreat for a day or so. He knew this Warden version of Kurusu would be on the move now. If he was freaking out that badly over one guard not coming back at a scheduled time, he would definitely lose it over physical evidence that someone destroyed his security system. And since he was watching that cell room so closely… that cell room that harbored that disgusting mess… it obviously meant he wanted to protect that thing.

But it left him stumped. Why on earth did Kurusu think of him that way?

Was that really all he thought of him, some broken down robot spewing words that made no sense?

Unless he didn’t know what to think of him?

Even now he could feel power pulsing softly at the thought of the other teenager, that their bond was forged through something more than fate… through their own desires. He didn’t know quite what that meant, but as soon as he got out of here, he could figure it out. The vow that solidified their connection, the thought of Shido completely ruined… he knew of anyone, Kurusu would fight the rest of his life to make sure it happened. He knew that deep down, he had confidence in that promise… he just didn’t know exactly why he felt as strongly as he did. 

Trusting others with no ulterior motives was a new experience for him. Everyone he had ever trusted he used for his own benefit, and in turn was used by. Their relationships with him could be boiled down to that one interaction; of using each other for their own means. Kurusu and his relationship may have started out that way… but it didn’t end that way. At least, he didn’t think so. There was no reason for the leader of the Phantom Thieves to make that promise to him… he owed him nothing. And yet-

And yet-

That promise meant more to him than the entire world, someone finally having his back for once. Even though there was absolutely no reason to.

But he would figure it out, it was obvious he wasn’t done here.

This second chance was a new journey… well if he could get out of here. 

At least he got the chance.

He laid down in the corner of the room, one hand on his gun which now held a single bullet. He didn’t regret a thing, shooting that cognition of him, that broken record of a creature. It was liberating, almost. All those words it spoke were words that held secrets, distrust, and lies. It was only right that he shot it. It wasn’t him at all.

His eyelids grew heavy as he fell asleep with a smile on his lips meant for himself.

It had been two days at least since he shot his cognition. He had no idea the exact passage of time, but he assumed it had to be at least 48 hours. Nothing else of extraordinary importance had happened in the jailhouse. In his exploring, he happened upon a giant room and found the Warden Kurusu occupying it. He wasn’t too surprised, he recalled the room from the digital map projected in the security room before he destroyed it. However, he was happy it was near his newest safe area. It gave him ample opportunity to study his opponent through a vented entrance. Worse come to worst, he would have to approach him. Not to exterminate him, but to talk. Even though that was probably the stupidest idea ever, he saw how much the Shadow was obviously affected by the ‘death of his prisoner’. He could only assume he meant the cognition of himself. Which means that, since the Shadow went to such lengths to preserve his prisoner, maybe he’d be hesitant to hurt the real one. He listened in for a bit as he yelled and threatened the rest of his little gang of Phantom Thieves before he lost interest.

It seemed the Warden was absolutely hell-bent on finding the intruder who shot his prisoner. His irritability was starting to unnerve his team, and his frustrations grew to almost insanity. There was not a conversation he overheard now that didn’t make his skin crawl with how crude he was to the rest of the Phantom Thieves. He almost felt bad for them, having their insecurities and weakness pointed out in mocking fashion, being humiliated by someone who was supposed to be their leader. But he tried not to feel sympathy for fake things, that was one of the rules he learned in the Metaverse. The vent hadn’t been discovered by any Shadows so he camped out in the cramped metal duct until he felt he had learned enough about the developing situation he caused. His time in there had become as important as exploring, even though it was unsettling to him that all of the Warden’s anger, frustrations, and desires revolved around that Cognition he shot. It set off a chain of events that left the Shadow frantic to bring whoever was responsible for shooting it two days ago responsible and execute them for touching  _ his _ prisoner. Even though, as he thought, the Cognition showed back up in the cell, the Warden was insistent on sniffing out the person who stole him away in the first place.

Usually, when that talk started, he left. He wasn’t interested in the reality that Kurusu had become that unhinged because of something resembling him. Even if it was a poor mockery.

He assumed he was making progress to the entrance, though he wasn’t sure he would find his briefcase and phone there. Damn whoever relocated them. Hopefully, they were even still in existence, that they hadn’t been destroyed. He knew they were on him when he went into Shido’s Palace. Either way, staying in the center of this place was certain death. The cameras and alarms obviously hadn’t been fixed, because he hadn’t seen any of the monitors flicker with life in his exploring. He had done his best to avoid the Shadow Guards, not wanting the Warden to be alerted to his location. He couldn’t waste energy on weaklings. Especially if he had to turn to his worst-case scenario and approach the Warden.

It was becoming abundantly clear that, as little as this place was kept up, it was massive and exhausting to explore. He had officially run out of scraps of his jacket. He was starting to feel uncomfortable in his own skin, desperate to feel clean and fed, though he still wasn’t hungry. It was still the sensation of emptiness that was starting to become more of a constant distraction he couldn’t shake off.  He was getting desperate. The inevitable truth of the situation was that he’d have to confront the very person he absolutely did not want to. He would have to do so without actually hurting him too… after all, he didn’t actually want to kill Kurusu. Even though this whole experience had been incredibly eye-opening for him on his nature. Only evil people had Manifestations, right?

This situation left him incredibly conflicted.

However, when he was in his safe area, trying to figure out some angle he hadn’t considered yet he heard the alarm system started going off outside. Seemed the Phantom Thief Cognitions fixed it. Great. Maybe that would distract the Warden to watch the Cognition rather than look for the person who ‘stole’ it. So maybe this was a blessing in disguise, that the system was up and working again. He could make further progress and maybe find another safe area.

But when it continued to go off and he heard a rush of footsteps in the hallway going towards the cell area, he knew something else was off. He peeked his head out of the room, watching as hoards of Shadow guards ran right by him. That was more Shadows than he had seen the entire time he was stuck here. Was this not a drill? A test of the system?

Or was someone else here?

His heart raced at the thought. His mind instantly connecting the dots. The only other people he was aware of that could come to the Metaverse…

The Phantom Thieves. 

But to Kurusu’s Manifestation, Kurusu’s Palace? His dirty secret?

Did that idiot really come here by himself?

When the coast was clear he bolted to the vent as quickly as he could, removing his helmet and attaching it to the belt at his waist so he could see clearly.

Inside his vent, he got confirmation of that question. Kurusu really was an idiot with a death wish. Another instance where he hoped to be wrong proved the opposite true.

He had a clear view of the events unfolding in front of him, if he positioned himself correctly. He never thought he’d see something like this, where a Master Shadow interacted with the actual person who mirrored them. And he never expected to see that Master Shadow be so… hostile towards its host. But hostile was the only word he could use to describe how Joker was being treated by someone who reflected the inner desires of his heart. 

He flinched when the Warden slammed Kurusu’s face into the cold floor. That had to hurt. But he couldn’t bring himself to look away as the Shadow pressed the toe of his shoe into Joker’s throat. His purrs about how Kurusu had taken that puppet version of himself made his stomach churn. Why did he feel the need to throw his name around like he owned him?

What was more disturbing was just how submissive Joker was to him. Another layer of mystery added to the mix. He was itching to solve it. Just what the hell was all of this?

Where was that rebellious spirit that sparked his soul? The man in front of him had no will left as he endured his own voice mocking him, gloating how no one cared for him. Was that really what he thought? He had friends, family, power and teammates. How on earth could he possibly feel that way? How on earth could he possibly feel weak? Even in the face of himself, he wanted to die? How pathetic.

"I've watched you, you know. You're vile and undesirable. Your purpose in life is to be an example of how society will trample those who fight back. Your rebellion was not a revolution, you have failed even yourself. And you'll pay for your transgressions."

He saw the glint of a gun and his stomach clenched. He gritted his teeth, his hand on his own gun. He needed to move and he needed to move now. Of course, how would they both get out of there? Kurusu was cuffed and he had one bullet left. Both Robin Hood and Loki were still at his disposal but he also didn’t want to destroy Kurusu’s Shadow. And given how self-sabotaging Kurusu’s Manifestation had been so far, there was no telling just how much strength he needed to exert to eliminate him. It could just be one attack and he could disintegrate. So that was out of the question. Why wasn’t Kurusu doing anything? Calling a Persona, something! This was exceedingly frustrating to watch, his mind racing to weigh any and every possibility, all the while watching the Warden put a gun up to Kurusu’s head.

"If you're too much of a coward to speak up for yourself, I'll lay you to rest right now, Joker."

He watched in horror as he succumbed to it. He saw his will shatter right before him with the bow of a head.

It made him sick. This was not the leader of the Phantom Thieves, the one he could have considered a rival or a friend. This was a broken husk of a man who needed a hero.

He was never one to be a hero for anyone but himself. But his adrenaline rushed him, moving to kick in the vent to the room and pulled himself out quickly. 

“Wait!” He grabbed his gun and shot a single shot into the air. There was silence in the room as he stood up, the Shadow Warden shifting his attention to him while still keeping the gun trained on the crown of Kurusu’s head.

The barrel of his own stolen gun moved to his temple, cocking it. He never aimed a gun at himself before but this was the best leverage he had at this point. The Warden wanted the real intruder who stole the Cognition dead by his own hands. The Warden also valued that fake mess’s life so in turn… he would value his own, right?

It was only when Kurusu realized he didn’t die that his head shot up, and looked at him with a wild expression that resembled someone seeing a ghost. 

That would have been a funny joke if the situation was different.

“Put the gun down, or I’ll shoot myself, then what happens to your precious Cognition that you have locked up in the cells? Probably would die, right? Put the gun down.” He demanded.

It was a gamble to make things right and it started with this. A gamble that consisted of an empty gun and a distorted heart and the odds stacked highly against them. But was a gamble Akechi Goro was willing to take on getting out of here alive with Kurusu Akira by his side.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, absolutely every single one of you who has read this and has expressed interest in this work. You guys keep me going constantly, I can't believe how lovely this fandom is. I hope you continue to read and go through this adventure!
> 
> I love you all!
> 
> My twitter is: @ chromiekins


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken me so long to get back to this. I know it's been a while but I'm back to finish this! School has just been such a pain for me.  
> Thanks to menthechocolat and CaptainRessentiment for betaing and pushing me through this. Special thanks as always to my wife because without her, this whole thing wouldn't have ever happened.
> 
> A quick summary of what happened in the last chapter since it's been four months:  
> Goro has been revealed to be alive and stuck in Akira's Palace, causing havoc and mayhem trying to get out since his phone and attaché case were taken. He ends up finding his cognition and disposes of it, then finds Akira and tries to save him with an empty gun.

Air crystallized in his lungs, cold and sharp against his ribs and throat. He breathed even so— jagged and rough as it ripped out of his mouth that hung open in shock. He exhaled a heavy, pained sigh that stung at his misty eyes. The once humid, muggy atmosphere wilted into a prickling chill that instantaneously ate away at his gloved fingers tightly bound behind him. But, he didn’t care. His attention was trained on Akechi; a puzzle slowly piecing itself together into some semblance of the detective he knew.

Another cognition?

He couldn’t pull his gaze off of him as he studied the image, he was almost fooled. Almost. The cognition was easily the closest thing to the real Akechi he had seen in this place. Down to the uneven tension in his shoulders that framed his puffed chest. His posture exuding an arrogant upper hand attitude reminiscent of Crow but dressed in the striped suit of the black mask. It made his chest ache to see how his mind reconstructed him, tall and proud– quite unlike the monstrosity he left wailing in the cell. There was nothing shriveled or wild about this conjured Akechi; his eyes calm and his lips curled into a confident, coy demeanor. And when he spoke, he cursed his own memories of the detective prince. He sounded so similar, down to the air of smug pleasantries as he continued to jeer at the Warden.

“Did you not hear me?” The cognition asked again, a jovial sneer that puffed into a soft cloud of fog. A tremor ran through him, shaking some sense back into him. Or perhaps he had already been shaking. The cognition’s movements never faltered, that unwavering confidence ever-present in his strides as he moved closer to the two of them.

The tip of the gun was still jabbing him in the head with enough pressure to keep Joker cognizant of the danger he was in. That's right, on his knees with the mirror image of himself keeping him prisoner in his own distorted cognition that spoke not one word to the pompous ghost of the detective that haunted his nightmares, his movements— every crevice of his mind.

Finally, he heard something other than the painfully, woefully reminiscent timbre of the cognition that loomed every closer to the two of them.

"Not a step further." His Shadow growled with a sharp intent, pressing the gun harder against the crown of his head, enough to make his eyes water. The image of Akechi blurred and he hissed in protest. He blinked away the tears rimming his eyes. The Warden's hand was still buried in his hair but still, he couldn't manage to rip his gaze away from the intruder before them.

He wished his mind would stop playing tricks on him, this game of smoke and mirrors. The sensible part of him that fell silent in his quest to play God finally began to stir. Preservation was kicking in and he wished that he could just forget all this. He wanted nothing more to be back at Leblanc, planning the next escapade for the Phantom Thieves now that their cases were getting more and more intense. Working himself to death would be better than this. He thought he was ready to face this, to face himself and his feelings but nausea coating his throat and wracks of panicked breathes that shook him now told him he wasn't ready. He would never be ready for this.

He was never meant to be ready to see even a well-constructed mockery of Akechi Goro again. And yet—

He wanted him to step _closer_ so that he may see him better.

But the cognition stopped as the Shadow Warden commanded, his footsteps ceasing as Joker strained to keep his eyes on him.

"Fine, fine." His stomach clenched as Akechi's dark eyes found his for the first time since he arrived and offered him a small, pathetic smile. Quite unlike one he had seen before. A new expression, subtle and... irritating.

"Never expected that the leader of the Phantom Thieves would be such a hapless fool. To get caught by his own Shadow? Really, Kurusu, aren't you supposed to be better than this?"

He didn't answer, couldn't bring himself to.

"Where are the rest of your friends, hm? To back you up? Or were you such an idiot that you came here alone?"

His teeth ground together, eyes drifting towards the ground.

Akechi let out a loud, irate sigh. "Well then, I'm not surprised someone like you would get caught. Without the others, you're just a useless waste of space. Relying on them has made you weak."

The growl he hissed in response stung his throat as he grounded the toe of his boots into the uneven floor below him.

This was _nothing_. Nothing compared to what his visions had called him— their cruel, unbridled scorn scorched through him, leaving him a barren wasteland of dust and ash. Just like the rest of the world had. The rest of the world who judged him, ridiculed him, mocked him... threw him out. His parents, who could only hang their heads in shame, their eyebrows wrinkled like he smelled of smoke when he spoke to them. His old friends, who disappeared from his side once the rumor of his arrest ripped through the school like wildfire. His new school, where he smoldered like a kindling fire and threatened to burn anyone who tried to touch him. And his friends who wouldn't dare question the scars that marred his soul. He was burning, crying for help as his own mind ensnared him in this never-ending cycle of power that bled into hatred. This cycle that started as a way to cope with his life, to trying to reclaim some bit of his life through the power of rebellion only to burn away into misery. Only to once again try to seek power from soot and ashes of himself lead him nowhere but a prison in his own mind.

So this cognition, this part of himself that marionette Akechi's appearance to sling insults at him could not hurt him. It just wrapped him up in a familiar sense of nostalgia and hope. All it could do was provide another distraction from his seemingly damned fate

But if this was nothing, why did it still sting at his chest so badly?

Why couldn't he stop himself from reacting to that simple, meaningless taunt?

In the end, he was nothing special, he was no God... just a human with the weight of the world stacked at odds against him.This is what happened when he rebelled, this is what happened when he tried to play God. He ended up a prisoner once again, suffocating on his own ideals. He couldn't win. Nothing now could save him, not from the weapon cocked against his head, not from the pain that crushed his chest every time this figment of his imagination spoke.

He wanted Akechi to stop talking, to stop existing— to stop burning. It hurt too much and yet...

Akechi didn't stop. And he found himself _grateful_.

"Ever the quiet one, I see. So how do you intend to get out of this mess? Got a trick up your sleeve, Joker?"

The cognition was no longer looking at him, its chin raised to regain eye contact with the Warden again. Some small, sinister part of him lapped up his words, curious and intent. Could this be the chance he was looking for all this time?

His thoughts wrapped around Akechi like bandages on a festering wound; a fix all. It was a quick hit of peace before his mind would start trying to tell him that what he had been focused on all this time was not real... was not worth it. His grief was that festering wound, manifested in burns that littered his mind as life seared him at every opportunity. He feared for the day it would spread to the rest of him. So he kept himself wrapped up in sterile white bandages like a present never to be opened by anyone but himself. It served its purpose, to look like he was actually healing and becoming stronger. In reality, his wounds decayed underneath the pure white surface of gauze and a fake smile reminiscent of the detective who haunted his mind, hiding in dark spaces to taunt him.

In reality, nothing he tried helped soothe the pain inside him. No new information, no new hope that sprung from his imagination, no new angle he found brought him any kind of closure. That place inside his mind that fought against the sensible side of him—where he promised himself he would fight on in this world as a Phantom Thief. That same place where he kept his feelings about Akechi under lock and key in a flower invested cell. That place inside him that clung desperately to the possibility still struggled even though he knew this was all so pointless. He knew he had to say good-bye. But with every chance of hope, he clawed at it, ripping gashes into his own skin, splitting the already rotting flesh with despair only to lick his wounds and wrap them in clean bandages. This cognition was yet a new layer of white sterile bandages to cover the clotted layers of hopes, disappointment, and smoke-stained resentment of Akechi Goro's ghost.

A new layer of optimism to cover his disease that broke down his once rebellious spirit into scabs and grim.

The itch in his neck was one he could not reach as his words crumbled to dust in his mouth.

"You think you can get a rise out of him?" The Warden taunted from above him. He saw the cognition thinly shrug and let out a weary sigh.

"Obviously not since he hasn't said a single word. The point is moot. So, let's try something different then. Let him go."

"Bargain with a criminal like yourself? You're lucky I haven't shot him-"

"That is a great point, you haven't shot him yet. Why is that?" The cognition Akechi spoke up, his voice drowning out the Warden's like he was easily snuffling out a candle. "That means you must want something from him and I. You could have easily killed him. Once you do, this whole place collapses anyway, right? So you absolutely have no reason except lack of commitment. If he lives, so does that parrot squawking in the cell. And if I die, well. So does that thing. You've already lost it once, can't bear to lose it again?"

The gun against his head rattled, causing him to flinch.

"Oh, is your hand quivering? Are you that unnerved by me talking about how you failed to protect him? From someone like me? An intruder in this place? I can go into some pretty gruesome details if you prefer. Like what he said before I shot him.”

Realization dawned on him like a bolt of lightning cracking against his head. The reality of the situation flaring off smoke signals in his mind. It was then that Joker started to realize that this whole fiasco made no sense to him. Nothing here made sense in context to the conversation taking place between The Warden and this cognition. The Shadow that wore his face wanted the person who took the insane cognition of Akechi, right? He wanted the person who stole the shaking, quivering mess from the cells. Joker was not that person. The person, the intruder that stole from the Warden—

The blank wanted posters hanging on the wall of the prison... the paranoid whispers from the Phantom Thieves about someone who wrecked their security system.

The culprit the Warden wanted dead was the very cognition that stood with a gun pressed to his head, threatening himself?

Cognition or—

It couldn't be...?

No. It wasn't _really_ him. His brain caught up with him again, ripping into his optimism with bared claws coated in reality. It was a cognition and nothing more.

"It was you-!" The Warden growled with animalistic intent as he realized the very same thing Joker concluded and suddenly he was shoved into the ground, his face grating on the cold, uneven flooring. His burning scalp was finally freed from his Shadow's grip. He was no longer the target of his revenge.

Quickly he shot his head up to see the that his Shadow's interest, indeed, no longer rested on him, but the cognition of Akechi that stood poised, unyielding.

He swallowed his creeping nausea down and tried in vain to stand. His muscles in his legs and arms had gone numb from the position he had been forced into. Blood was racing in his limbs, his heart hammering in an unsteady rhythm when he heard Akechi speak again.

"That's right, it was me. It was my pleasure to put a bullet in that disgusting thing! You're welcome!" He laughed, his tone still pleasant despite the seeping aggression that sang through his words.

Joker could barely see through the dim light and fog of his own erratic breath in the now frigid air. His tingling legs finally found some stability as he managed to stand, staggering forward to see the Warden now closing in on his prey that still had a gun pressed to his head.

"I will rip you to pieces, trash."

"I'll shoot myself before you ever touch me so don't take a step closer. If I die, so does that thing agai-"

The guttural wail that pierced the air was unlike any he had ever heard, like a wounded animal calling for backup but with his own voice as a mouthpiece that chilled him to the bone. Yet over the screech of the Warden, another voice called out, deep and commanding.

Joker's eyes widened behind his mask as a blue light surrounded the cognition of Akechi and his lips mouthed out silently in sync.

"Loki!"

He watched as a pulsating blue light surrounded him. The mask ripped off and disintegrated in his clawed hand. However, there were no grand gestures to shield himself from the Warden's gun firing with a sickening crack and streamed through the air. No, just that blue light that filled the room, a strong draft from the presence of the familiar, slouching black and white creature that loomed over its summoner, guarding him against the attack. The wind from the force of the Persona blew him back a few feet. With his hands still cuffed behind him, Joker winced as dust and dirt flew into his eyes. He blinked, trying to regain his footing and help now that a battle had started. He could help at least create a distraction, right? Another layer of gauze over his pain, another chance to find something he didn't know before to start healing his very wounded soul. A chance to be useful.

He yanked on the cuffs with dismay and opened his mouth to summon Metatron just as a hand covered his lips.

"Not a word, Kurusu." Akechi's voice was in his ear, hushed and dire. The underlying urge to vomit rushed into his stomach and stained his tongue once again.

"He'll be distracted for a while, let's go now." He heard crashing in the background of that eerily familiar voice and blinked the rest of the dust from his itching eyes only to see dark amber ones staring into his own.

Akechi's…

This wasn't _real_. Sure he had never seen a cognition summon a Persona, but he was positive this was just his desperation making its final stand before decimating him once again. The straw the broke the camel's back.

But he was _still_ so close that he could reach out and touch him if his arms hadn't been locked behind him. He was thankful because if he had he was sure Akechi would just fade into nothingness again.

The world froze, the new chill in the air settled into his mind as he soaked up the image. He was unkempt, frazzled even as he tugged on Joker's jacket, urging him to move. He saw his lips move, they were dry and cracked as they form words at him that he could barely comprehend through the racing of his heart in his ears. Desperation clouded his dark eyes as he yanked Joker close, just mere inches away from his face.

"I know I said he'd be distracted but we need to leave, now!" The cognition shouted at him as a loud crash was heard behind them, making them both jump. His mind slowly ticked and things clicked into place. A piece of wall was hurled at them, Akechi yanked him down to duck the flying debris.

"Kurusu, there is no time for this!" He hissed loudly as looked back at the battle that was kicking up dust from the concrete that was getting displaced. He was right, there was no time. He nodded in understanding. Regardless if this was a cognition or not they needed to run.

His heart burned on in his chest and Akechi let out the smallest of relieved sighs.

"Good. Follow me and keep up or I'm leaving you behind!" And just like that, he took off towards the entrance of the room. Joker's feet finally seemed to spring free from the invisible shackles of shock that bolted him down just as another slab on wall whizzed by him and crunched directly where he was standing before.

_Shit._

"This way!" The cognition motioned to him. "Can't go out the way I came in, they are fighting near the vent but mercifully there's a safe room over here." He watched the cognition throw the heavy bolted door open like it was a paperweight and soon he was shoved passed the threshold.

"Loki won't be able to maintain his form and stay materialized for long like this. Realistically, that's for the best, but we need to hurry." He kicked the bulky door closed almost effortlessly. "Follow me, got it?"

He could only nod as numbness settled into his bone. Before they could start he heard a clambering of footsteps and shouting voices approaching their position.

"Shit." The cognition muttered. "Keep up." And soon they were both sprinting down the dusty halls shrouded in mist from the sudden temperature change that settled in the entire Palace. The metal around them creaked in protest, almost moaning as if in pain.

A few times the cognition whipped his head around to see if he was keeping up. Truthfully, he was running low on stamina, the whole event reeling in his mind to the point where he was feeling rather dizzy.

"In!"

He stopped at the door and gave the figure another look over.

If he entered that room, the cognition wouldn't be able to follow, right? Much like the Phantom Thieves he had seen earlier. They looked in but didn't walk in... nor see him.

Wait... Akechi could obviously see him. He didn’t know what that meant but he had been the only cognition in the place to acknowledge his existence. Was it because of their bond when he was living?

The shouting in the distance was becoming closer, mixing with the groans of the settling foundations. He was running out of time to question the whirlwind of chaos in his mind.

He saw those amber eyes narrow on him. "I said get _in_ , Kurusu."

But he didn't want to. If he did that, his bandages would stain from the oozing uncertainty that threatened to destroy him. If Akechi disappeared again, even this obviously fake one, it'd be like losing him all over again. The cycle would continue, be it with apartments or toys, Palaces or dreams. It would just happen all over again and Joker didn't know how to be strong against it anymore... the pressing hand of fate that wanted to crush him into a smoldering pile of ash. He was not an enduring force like Akechi had been. He was not some infallible being like his friends made him out to be.

Even still, the desperate look in the figure's eyes made it harder to resist. He braced himself, gloved, soiled fingers curling into his palm, biting through the leather. This was it, a final goodbye. He had already said his farewells to the conjured dream Akechi who mocked him behind bars... and yet he still couldn't let his ghost go. But now was the time.

And he stepped across the threshold.

His eyes closed, breathing ragged. He was scared to turn around, afraid to face the truth that Akechi would be behind an invisible line. Or that he'd rupture into a plume of smoke he couldn't catch. His heart couldn't take it anymore. But it didn't matter. The pain was going to consume him soon but for now, he was safe. He could sort this all out later. The truth was he would never get the closure he sought so gravely. For now—

"...safe..."

He heard a loud sigh behind him as the door closed.

Behind him...?

He turned around, his eyes wide to see the cognition in the safe room with him, holding the gun he had pressed to his own head minutes ago now pressed to Joker's.

"Safe is a funny choice of words. Finally decided to speak up, Kurusu?" The venom that snapped at him made him tremble, not from fear but from sudden comprehension. This wasn't just some twisted part of himself built on despair or grief. This wasn't his mind playing tricks on him. Akechi was standing right in front of him?

"What the hell was that?" Akechi's mouth was moving but the words slurred together in ways that distorted his voice. Spinning. The whole room was spinning.

And even still, he saw concern bloom on the other's face, the gun trained on his head before he lowered it just in time to press against him as his knees buckled. The adrenaline that was keeping him upright and focused began to fade, replaced with shock.

"Kurusu?" He heard his own name being called but his vision was swimming in darkness.

The cell was empty this time again.

Only there were no flowers though, just scorch marks coating the metal bars and splattered everywhere inside the tiny room.

He looked around, not seeing even a hint of its usual resident. Not since he said goodbye, not since the single spider lily sprouted in the very center of the stone and iron structure.

"Akechi?" He asked, hesitant, his voice more fearful than he had ever heard it before.

"What is it you desire?"

He jumped and looked around the room. That wasn't the detective's voice though. Behind him stood tall the very same figure that flared up from the center of Shibuya Crossing his first day in the city. The very same creature that nurtured his power and gave a cause of his rebellion.

Arsène loomed over him, staring down at him with ease.

Shackled to the ground like an animal doomed to be executed.

He opened his mouth to speak but the Persona spoke for him.

"You are lost, child."

"Lost?" He walked over to the restraints to examine them with haste. He yanked on the metal chains with fruitless results. "What happened to you? What's going on?" He hadn't seen his very first Persona since he struck a deal to turn the world into mindless masses. Since he decided to continue his path of being a Phantom Thief. Truthfully, he had been so caught up in other things to fully realize how monumental Arsène’s absence had been to him. The hunch he had before trying out his own name in the Meta-Nav had been distant from his mind since he entered the prison Palace.So to see him like this made his heart sink in his stomach with renewed guilt.

The Persona stared straight through him.

“This was your choice. You have decided this path for yourself and there is nothing more I can do for you, my thief." The deep rumbling of his voice resonated against his eardrums. "However, should you crave power and should you choose to diverge instead of bowing your head to fate, I will return to lend you my power. Should you chose to unfurl your wings of rebellion once again, I will be awaiting your resolve once more."

"Here? I don't know where here is—"

"You will know. Call upon my name once more should you require me and I will rejoin your side to fight."

He tried to think of what else to say to the definite conclusion to their conversation to keep it going, but light began to sink through his eyelids as he struggled once again with the chains that bound his Persona. The echo of him only calling out to Arsène pulled him back to consciousness, his eyes snapping open with a jolt and caused his leg to kick out. The involuntary action was followed by a chuckle and all at once, he realized just how much his body ached.

"Have a restful nap? Didn’t realize you having a gun aimed at you would cause you to faint so easily." He heard a voice teasing him from across the dimly lit and dank room that smelled of musty paper. His arms were sore at his side and he moaned as he pushed himself up. His elbows locked up as he tried to sit. After some difficulty, he was leaning on his knees for support. Gingerly, he massaged his shoulders and wrists, noting how the handcuffs had been removed from them but still left bites in his flesh.

"What do you mean?" He gasped out, growing dizzy enough to force his eyes closed.

"You passed out as soon as you got in here. Rather anticlimactic if you ask me but it seems you still have a flair for the dramatics. Though, I suppose it is partially my fault for losing my temper.” The sing-song answer to his question made him wrench his eyes open. He looked over to see him sitting across the room on a pile of crunched cardboard boxes. His heart shriveled in his chest and his throat went dry. How?

"Akec-"

How was this possible?

"Are you-?"

"Alive, real, actually here? Yes, I am." The detective snapped his head up and stood, walking closer to him. Akira assumed he was dead. That was the only reasonable explanation. The Warden had actually pulled the trigger, after all. This was hell. He had finally let himself become consumed by his own recklessness and died.

Akechi sat beside him and leaned back on his hands, eyeing him cautiously as he spoke. "I think we need to discuss some things since you seem to finally be in the cooperative spirit after your little snooze." He offered before pulling his legs to sit cross-legged on the makeshift bed of boxes Akira had woken up on.

"You aren't dead," Akira stated bluntly as he desperately tried to piece together the very vivid image of Akechi Goro in front of him, sitting beside him, almost looking _bored_. The disconnect from the current situation of what was unfolding in front of him was making it hard for him to grasp what was happening.

"No, it seems I’m not. I woke up in here some time ago with a terrible headache." The other boy propped his elbow up on his knee and leaned his head into his hand, just watching him.

At the mention of a headache, his temples pulsated. He could already feel one coming on himself but couldn't bring himself to move from his spot or complain in some sort of mutual understanding. This was all just far too surreal for him. Akechi sat in front of him, not in a straight-jacket wailing incomprehensible words to him, phrases recycled over and over. Akechi was not behind bars with blood dripping down the hole in his face. There were no flowers; no carnations, no forget-me-nots, no spider-lilies. No… he was just sitting there, observing him as if he was some kind of attraction like an ant farm or a piece in a museum. The detective was wearing the dark striped Metaverse outfit he had last seen him in, his hair pulled up in some sort of messy, tattered ponytail that was disheveled. In fact, his own appearance was not one he associated with polished and perfectly groomed Akechi. But nonetheless—

"You're real." He responded still dumbstruck. His stomach coiled tightly into a knot.

"Yes, I already said that, were you not listening to me?" Amber eyes cut through him and he shivered.

"I'm having a hard time understanding." He admitted as rubbed at his wrists where the handcuffs had chafed underneath his gloves before scratching at the phantom itch in his neck.

"Where…?"

The frustrated sigh that came out of the detective immediately shut him up.

"We are in your Manifestation—a _Palace_ as your lot calls it. I got into a fight with your Shadow and got us out of there safely, you’re welcome for that by the way. We managed to get into this safe room before the rest of your cognition henchmen could find us. It wasn’t a stunning feat since they are really incompetent, but you can still thank me for saving your life. I've been in here a long while trying to find my way out. And you are the _idiot_ who walked into your own Palace to do who knows what and why." Akechi explained, annoyance clipping his works as he spoke to him like he was a child, simple and to the point. His face burned with shame.

How could this be?

"No. I-I saw you die." He stuttered, his voice cracking with the smallest of thinly-veiled disbelief. He averted his eyes, unable to maintain contact though he could tell Akechi was still staring at him just as intensely as he had been before. His whole world was unraveling around him. Those tightly wound bandages over his burns slacking off to uncover rotting optimism. Desire and ill-conceived hope that stung at his chest so much it made his eyes water.

"I..." Akechi started quietly, for once being robbed of words it seemed. "I don't have an explanation for that, I'm afraid. I quite vividly recall dying as well. When I shot my cognition my side ached and when it shot me, I—" He watched the other boy rub his stomach subconscious, eyes unfocused for just a moment before snapping back to the present. “Well, I assume I died. I woke up here and have been stuck ever since.”

His words boiled in his throat, words… too many words. So many that they come out all at once, steam out of his mouth, but the sounds stuck together until they formed a laugh. An incredibly pronounced chuckled that morphed into an almost bark as he shook his head. Tears hung against his lashes, he could feel them burning his eyes as he just _laughed_.

Akechi didn’t say anything. He only watched. His face distorted to an expression mixed with disgust and confusion, but Akira did not stop laughing.

How stupid, this whole thing was. To think Akechi Goro was stuck here this whole time, in a Palace of his own creation. The person who consumed his waking and sleeping thoughts was really here and alive.

He couldn’t stop laughing. There was no way this was possible.

“Shut up, Kurusu.” He could barely hear Akechi’s growl of irritation.

He shook his head, stubbornly scrubbing the tears that threatened to fall from his eyes away. He was _angry_. Frustratedly so.. Akechi who tried to frame a death on him, the one who tried to _murder_ him, the one he lost a month ago without understanding how he felt about him. He wanted to know why he left such an impact on, why he burrowed down deep under his skin like a parasite he couldn’t rip out. Undying questions that haunted him since the moment he found out Akechi’s intent to kill him, all those questions he tried desperately to find answers for and struggle to keep up the image of a strong leader built this Palace they were both now stuck in. And it wasn’t fair that his own mind couldn’t find the strength to even acknowledge the truth in front of him.

But when long fingers wrapped around his bruised wrists and Akechi’s hands began prying his own palms away from his face, Akira found himself unable to deny reality. His grip was solid.

“Look at me,” Akechi demanded, now almost as close to him as he had been in during the battle with the Warden, separated by only Akira’s legs which huddled close to his chest. “How do you not believe this?”

The laughs smothered in his throat as the detective brought his hand up towards that familiar, worn-out face.

“Stop it.” He tried to pull his hand away, knowing full well the lingering fear that as soon as he touched him, he would vanish into smoke again and he’d be left alone again.

But Akechi didn’t stop, even as Akira curled his fingers into his palm… his balled up fist touched the detective’s cheek. Solid.

He didn’t realize how badly his hands were shaking until Akechi dropped his grasp on his wrist.

Relief instantly flooded his chest.

He swallowed hard.

“Better?” Akechi asked whether feigning concern or the knit in his brows was that of legitimate worry, he had no idea.

He barely managed a nod, breathing in deeply and clearing his throat before rubbing the remnants of the few drops of water that clung to his cheeks and eyelashes. The shame from before was searing through him again but it wasn’t as if he actually broke down in tears. He considered himself fortunate in that regard. He felt himself calming down just enough recollect his thoughts and start asking questions.

It was like a dam of oppressing silence finally breaking. An ointment to soothe his wounds. A possible step in the right direction after so much time venturing down dead-ends and fruitless leads.

“So, how long have you-? You’ve been stuck in here? Why couldn’t you leav-? Why did you kill the cognition in the cell? Why did you try to m-”

A single hand held up in the air cut him off from airing his flurry of inquiries. He yielded to silence once again.

“My apologies but you need to slow down. I’m sure you have many questions. Rest assured, I have many for you as well. However, let's set some boundaries so we aren’t in here talking for hours.” The confidence had returned to Akechi’s voice. While normally, denial of questions he so desperately wanted to resolve to would have piled onto the growing anxiety of closure being so far from his reach… but he found himself alright with this. Things would be addressed later… The time to process this whole situation later with someone else, the very person who caused such unrest in him was a better outcome than he could have possibly dreamt of. So he conceded for now. There was time for this later. For now, it was more important to cooperate.

“Okay.” He agreed, finding his own confidence somewhere in the mess of his emotions storming on in his head.

He watched as Akechi leaned back against the wall of the safe room. He felt his shoulders relax a bit as well, following suit. He reclined against the wall, still keeping his eyes locked onto the detective as he spoke.

“Thank you for being so agreeable. Firstly, I believe all discussions here should pertain to our escape. Anything else can be discussed after we’ve left. I noticed when I was laying you down that your cell phone was not on you. Mine wasn’t either, which is why I’ve been stuck here. Your Shadow may have acquired them and my attaché case somehow to ensure that we both cannot leave. However, the logic of that doesn’t quite line-up…” He trailed off his prattling explanation when their eyes meeting again. “You can stop staring at me like I’m going to disappear, you know.” The detective’s voice was gentle but blunt.

He blinked in surprise and fidgeted.

“I just… can’t believe you’re here right now is all.” He said, far more solemnly than he intended. The raw honesty of his statement made Akechi smile a bit.

“The Metaverse is a funny place.” But there was no humor in his comment. Akira could only nod in agreement. There was still so much he didn’t know...

“You have more power here than you even realize,” Akechi continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted by Akira’s unrelenting stare. “Surely you’ve noticed the change in lighting has gotten brighter and temperature cooler here. Your handcuffs were easy for me to break which means you wanted to be free. The condition of a subject’s heart can easily morph any kind of happenings in a Palace. Which is why this one is starting to break apart. I don’t know if we have that much time left in here, so we must act quickly.”

“What do you mean?”

The detective let out another long-winded sigh but Akira didn’t take it as personally this time.

“Look around you. Things are changing here, though not by much at first glance, element-wise. I don’t know what the object of your distortion is, and frankly, I don’t care to know right now if my suspicions are correct. That falls into the category of things to work out later. But, right here and now, things are about to come to a head. Meaning we will either be buried with this place as it collapses from whatever you are feeling... or walk out of it. And that decision is yours to make.”

Upon the suggestion, Akira managed to survey the safe room. True enough, panels of metal had collapsed onto the ground in warped hunks. Dust had filled the air as well and a tremor much like an earthquake shook them. They both jumped as a crash was heard outside the safe room. This seemed far more dire than he thought.

“You seem to know a lot about this.” He offered, swallowing what little pride he had left and turned back to the detective. This place was massive, just from his exploration of it. He assumed it’d take some time to crumble, but he wasn’t willing to take the gamble.

“It’d be asinine to try to change your heart,” Akechi ignored his comment and continued explaining. “I’ve been in here for a while and haven’t stumbled upon your treasure yet, though even if I did, I wouldn’t have been able to do anything about it due to your calling card antic. So, there’s only one thing we can do.

You have to defeat your Shadow. Accept it as a reflection of you, I believe.”

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Hadn’t they just tried that? Besides the ‘acceptance’ part. What did that even mean, a reflection of himself? From what he had seen, the Warden was illogical and hysterical. There was no way something like that was really him. He had been doing so well trying to keep things together for himself and the Phantom Thieves. There was no possible way he was that cracked. Though the point that he would even have a Palace was alarming to him… was he that far gone? On the same level of all those statues of grotesque statues in the yard? No, he absolutely refused to believe that.

“I’ve heard of it happening before, another thing to discuss later but it should work under these circumstances. Shadows are reflections of yourself, much like Persona. Their origin is the same though Shadows are sinister and distorted. Accepting it may placate the Shadow enough to allow us out. I don’t know what even caused you to have a Shadow since there have been cases of Shadows turning into Persona through some change in a subject’s resolution, however, you already possess multiple Persona and already awoke to your original—”

Something clicked in his head as Akechi spoke. Some piece of the puzzle that fit just right. Arsène.

Arsène disappeared from him when he made a deal with “Igor”. He hadn’t paid much attention because it wasn’t as if he had used Arsène very much as of recently. He had felt it but he had been feeling so much recently, it hadn’t registered to him. But maybe…

Had his deal with Igor somehow lead to Arsène turning into this Shadow? Was that even possible that his previous suspicion about why Arsène left his side be true?

The dream he just had...

Akechi was still talking about something when he cleared his throat and interrupted him once again. “Let’s fight him then.”

He obviously caught Akechi by surprised as he saw the detective’s eyebrows raise and his head tilted ever so slightly.

Another question to add to his unending pile of things he wanted to know was why that action actually struck him as _endearing_.

“Ah, the ever-confident Joker finally makes an appearance.”

He fought the urge to both flush and make a snappy comeback at the remark.

“Shut up, Akechi.” He grumbled and he heard the detective start laughing.

He couldn’t help a laugh himself. This was still all so remarkable, even though the pain and disbelief still lingered on and nagged at him. He had made the right choices it seemed…

“So let’s come up with a plan then. I get another gun. I’m sure it’ll be easy to steal one from a Shadow. You already have a weapon, too.” He suggested, finally nestling down into a more comfortable position and relaxed his legs.

“Hmm, I’m afraid not. My gun is empty.” The detective picked it up and tossed it to him. He caught it swiftly and checked the magazine. Nothing.

“I fear I made an error when I shot my cognition. That was one of my two bullets. And the last bullet was used to distract the Warden from shooting you. So I’ll have to lift one off a guard as well in order to be armed. Truthfully, I’ve been avoiding fighting anything in here to preserve both Robin Hood and Loki but I’m quite drained of energy.”

He stared over the gun and looked up at Akechi. “Wait so… when you came in threatening to shoot yourself… you-”

“It’s called a bluff, Kurusu. There was nothing in it when I held you up either.” He shrugged and held his hand out. Akira placed the empty weapon back in his grasp and couldn’t help but let himself stare once again.

“You tried to save my life with no way to guard yourself?”

“I have both Robin Hood and Loki, don’t look down on me like I was defenseless.”

It was Akira’s turn to cut him off mid-word. “You’re incredible.”

In a trick of the light, he was sure he saw the other’s cheeks stain with the lightest of flushes. Maybe.

“Save your gratitude until we are actually out of this hellhole, Kurusu. I think sushi would be a perfect start.”

He cracked a small smile at the thought of the Genki Sushi coupon Niijima had given him. It gave him some simple satisfaction. He laughed again and nodded. “Fine, fine. I’ll treat you.”

And together they started to devise a simple plan to get the attention of the Warden and put an end to this miserable prison and end their time as inmates of Akira’s mind.

“It’s simple,” Akechi remarked as he stood up.

“But it’ll work, right?” That was all that really mattered. He stood as well, stretching his restless limbs. He was ready for this to be over as soon as possible so he could finally sort out the important questions that have been haunting him for so long. Closure was so close he could almost taste it, almost catch it in his hands.

“As long as you accept it, it should help smooth over our escape. Though we can’t kill it, no matter what it says to you. Just admit it.” He advised with a thoughtful hum.

That didn’t bode well with him, accepting some distorted reality of him as a part of him. Especially since it wasn’t true but if he even had to lie to make it work, he was sure it would be successful.

They ironed out the small details and back-up plan to retreat should things go awry and decided to use Akira’s limited healing items during the fight with the Warden should they need it. But Akira had minimum doubts for the first time in a long time that things would be okay. He was practically brimming with confidence that he hadn’t felt since before his interrogation, since the Casino where he knew he had an upper hand.

And he did have an upper hand now as well, Akechi was obviously skilled in combat and having him on his side with a common goal once again renewed his certainty. His uncertainty and frustrations were placed aside for their survival. Their bond was still strong, he could feel power standing beside him. Whether that was based on trust or not, he didn’t know. But for now, they had to believe in each other to escape. And he knew deep down, he was right this whole time to not give up. Fate was rewarding him for his suffering, rewarding him for obeying.

“Ready?” Akechi asked after he placed his helmet back on his head. He strolled over to the door and gripped the latch, Akira’s knife gleamed under his belt for the time being. The first step was getting them both another ranged weapon. Since Akira had a full arsenal of Persona at his disposal and hadn’t used as much energy, they figured handing Akechi the knife would be the smartest move.

Though some part of him resented that he didn’t completely trust the other not to use it or the gun on him after the fight. Past actions spoke for themselves and he kept his guard up on that front, the thought tucked away in his mind that Akechi may again betray him one they were in the clear for escape. But they said they had things they wanted to talk about later, right? That means Akechi had probably just as many questions for him as he did for Akechi. Maybe. That would all become clearer once they got out of here.

He nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s finish this.”

The detective swung open the door to the safe room and they both stepped out into the hall. Neither were surprised that a horde of Shadow guards was laying in wait for their move.

They gave each other a knowing look as they summoned their Persona, both Metatron and the surly Robin Hood to help fight off the stronger opponents, and tackled the weaker front line with their weapons. The rush that scorched through his veins was like a high he hadn’t felt in battle before, picking off Shadow after Shadow with only Akechi… Crow at his side.

“Joker!” He heard the detective yell and he ducked on instinct as an arrow from Robin Hood’s bow struck a Shadow that had crept up behind him unawares.

“Thanks for the back-up.” He called back, quickly turning his attention to the creature that tried to assault him, taking it down with one sickening crunch from Metatron. They quickly tore through the crowd, sure now that their presence was noted.

“Let’s go!” Crow called out and he eagerly followed him towards the area with the cells once more. As they ran, the detective handed him back his knife and a new firearm, having acquired two guns.

“So far so good.”

Alarms were filling the dusty air as more panels of the Palace fell to the ground around them.  It was now or never and it didn’t take very long at all to reach the place the Warden felt needed protecting the most. Crow’s deduction was correct as the cognitive Phantom Thieves stood guard with Shadows radiating a red aura in front of the cell door.

They ducked behind a wall and caught their breath before they exchanged a look and an understanding nod.

A final showdown once again and this time it was a curtain call for this whole wretched place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank yall so much for reading and commenting. Your encouragement has meant so much to me! Thank you for sticking with me this long!
> 
> My twitter handle is @chromiekins.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow, hello. Long time no see? It's my birthday (erm on the 16th) so you know what? I'm gifting myself this chapter. It's been a rough year but I'm graduating in 4 days and I'm in a much better place now than I had been earlier in the year! So I'm stoked to get back on this project. Especially now that things happen in here that I was worried I wouldn't be able to pull off.
> 
> I want to give a massive, giant shoutout to my wife for literally pestering me for months to finally finish this chapter. Without her, I would have given up! 
> 
> And a big thanks to Thank you to [Kaykee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainRessentiment/) and [Reiko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selvanic) for betaing. Y'all have been so unbelievably helpful in putting me out of my rut.

The sirens that shrieked in the air were not the only alarms going off; however, the ones blaring in his head with every passing second he had spent with Kurusu would have to wait until after they were out of the Manifestation. This whole thing struck him as odd in more ways than one. He had seen people unhinged before, twisted in such obscure ways to keep up a front of normality— all the while a storm raged inside that threatened to collapse that composure they so greedily held onto. Hell, often he had been the one to orchestrate that breaking point, pushing people to the absolute brink of insanity. It was a sight he was familiar with, desperation and hopelessness. And it was apparent from the very first glance at Kurusu in that safe room that things were very, very wrong. He was more unnerved than he would ever allow himself to let on, however. Things were going to have to wait until they were out of here. For now, he’d have to keep his suspicions under lock and key. The odds were too greatly stacked against them and any proding of the truth at this time could cause catastrophic effects. It was a gamble he wasn’t willing to take until they emerged from the whims of the Metaverse.

After that, any line of questioning was fair game.

He had seen this type of behavior far too often, knowing that, if left unchecked, the end result would be anything but a pleasant one. He had seen it from such a young age after all, starting with his mother, whose lack of employment and stresses of raising a bastard child on her own chipped away at what small happiness she could muster day after day. He knew what someone desperately holding onto some chance of hope looked like. Their agonizing longing for peace clouding their other emotions until there was nothing left but a lifeless body that reeked of decay and blood in the stale water of a bathtub. He had seen what it looked like to want to die, the distant stare of loneliness that swallowed the sunlight of a brand new day. He swore to himself he would never end up like his mother, always clinging to the possibility of that man returning to her to the point that she threw away her son for a fantasy. And he swore he would never end up like his father, caring more for his own ego and ambition that he threw away his son to rot like the woman he also discarded without a care in the world.

And looking at Kurusu—

The similarities of the situation were almost numbing. That unrelenting stare, like he was some sort of figment of this Manifestation, a fantasy. Coupled with the fact that something was terribly broken enough inside Kurusu to even cause a Manifestation twisted his stomach with a sickening sense of withering nostalgia. He could practically smell death seeping through the glove on the hand that touched his cheek when the Phantom Thief affirmed that Akechi Goro was real and right in front of him.

It was disconcerting but there was nothing to be done right now. Their goal was to get out of this death trap in one piece.

Even with this plan of confronting the Warden, the possibility of Kurusu's mental state deteriorating more was seemingly likely. It was just another thing he had to keep watch over, to try to keep him from unraveling. This was hard enough being a babysitter, but also trying his utmost to assure they both emerge alive from this shit was testing his already shortened patience. It was like Kurusu came in here with a death wish and this place was going to be his grave. Had he interjected just a moment later with the Warden... Kurusu would be dead, his body trapped under a pile of rubble. A fallen hero crushed and broken under a distortion of his own making.

It was obvious that whatever had happened had affected Kurusu profoundly. Watching him move, even now as they fought, Goro realized just how hard it was for the thief to keep up. He could see that he was more capable now than the absolutely helpless husk of a person that he protected. But his reactions were slow, his steps reckless and haphazard.

Even after they spoke, after he reassured him that he was a living, breathing human... it still didn't seem to be enough to return his resolve fully. There were definitely underlying issues. He was banking on that being the case… that his 'death' affected Kurusu in ways he couldn't cope with. He didn't know why he cared that much, but he was thankful that the so-called ‘leader’ of the Phantom Thieves was scrambling to keep himself composed and useful. For now, it was enough to take some concern off of his mind, but it made him hesitant and leery of staying by Kurusu’s side.

Handing over a gun to an almost madman made his stomach churn. His grip lingered on the revolver as Kurusu took it from his outstretched hand and shared a sly grin with him. He wondered if this makeshift alliance they had would backfire on him, quite literally. But he was a quicker shot than Kurusu, having done this type of thing for a much longer time. It would be difficult for Kurusu to get out of here by himself as well, and the glimmer of hopefulness that shone through the deadpan stare that haunted his eyes just minutes beforehand was a bit contagious. The cracks of the other boy's mask told him he would be safe from any kind of betrayal. Though it wouldn't be undeserved— however, it wouldn't give Kurusu what he craved the most, right?

Goro had at least a few answers to offer.

He knew, more than anything else, this was what Kurusu desired. And what good would Goro being dead solve? 

The way his eyes glistened with unshed tears almost made him choke on the laugh he suppressed when he promised him that they would talk about things later. A laughter that bubbled from the same bitter, almost nostalgic place in his heart where memories of his life resided and ached with a burning desire to fix things. There was a faith in Kurusu’s eyes that he felt he didn’t deserve nor want. Like speaking to him was going to magically solve all the unspoken pains Kurusu had been going through. He wasn’t anyone’s savior: anyone who thought one person was the pinnacle to healing was a fool.

Betting a whole hand on one person was incredibly stupid, but Kurusu looked at him like he was the key to everything, the way he hesitated when he touched his face, the tremble in his voice… like everything was going to be fine if he just trusted Goro to help him.

He once looked at someone else with that much trust, too. The faith in them that he would be safe, he would be useful, he could repent for his mother's despair with their guiding hand. A guiding hand to lead them to greatness.

Kurusu looked at him much like how he used to look at Isshiki Wakaba.

So, he wouldn’t be his mother, hung up on the fantasy of someone who loved her. He wouldn’t be his father either, using people to achieve power before discarding them away for his own merit. And he wouldn't be like Isshiki, either, dangling someone along through sheer desperation for resolution and hope.

He would give Kurusu what he wanted rather than just use him as a toy. He would honor his word to Kurusu that he would get the answers to his questions instead of jerking him around for ulterior reasons.

That is... if Kurusu didn't get so wrapped up in his own head that he tried to kill Goro first; it was a possibility he kept tucked away in the back of his mind as they ducked around a corner to catch their breath.

He held the upper hand here, having himself put together enough to make up for any physical weaknesses the leader of the Phantom Thieves displayed.

It really was like babysitting.

He peaked around the corner of the wall and let out a soundless sigh. The cognitive version of every single one of the Phantom Thieves was right in front of the doors to the cell room. No Shadows at least... He looked up, a steely gaze met his as Kurusu nodded at him.

This guy really didn’t think things through. His haste was going to get them killed without some sort of specific plan to back up their goal.

"We aren't just going to ambush them." He hissed. "We are outnumbered, even if we could get 7 shots off, that would alert the Shadows." Which meant that there would be more areas of their breach to try to cover to make up for the other boy's incompetency.

"I have an idea," the thief said and Goro suppressed the urge to act surprised. Maybe some of Kurusu’s survival skills were actually kicking in.

"Oh? I'm all ears at this point."

"We need a distraction, right?"

He nodded tentatively, practically able to see the hamster wheel in Kurusu's mind turning.

"Well, they can't see me."

He blinked... and blinked again. "What do you mean?" he asked, a bit louder than he intended and quieted down mid-question.

The thief nodded at him again and hunched down to a crouch. "Yeah, they can't see me. I ran into them earlier and none of them noticed me."

He raised an eyebrow, not that Kurusu could see his skepticism in the reaction from under his mask, but that... raised more questions than it answered.

"Why can't they see you?" he inquired, his left hand dropping to his side where his gun rested and he strained to keep an ear out for any sound of approaching footsteps. Whatever Kurusu's plan was he needed to make sure it'd work... and make sure it happened quickly.

"They don't think very highly of me I guess," He scoffed with a shrug like he just admitted a food preference in a normal conversation rather than admitting that he thought he didn't mean very much to his best friends.

Anger began to boil in a jealous rage in his stomach, but he was able to let it simmer instead with another deep breath. "You really think that? That they don't care for you?" It would make sense why they couldn't see him if that was the case. 

"I know it," he mumbled.

Things were worse than he anticipated.

"It’s an interesting angle," he remarked before shaking his head. "What do you intend to do?”

“You distract them, you know this place well enough, and I’ll sneak in behind and open the door. We can meet again in a few minutes after you lose them.”

He thought about it, tapping his finger on his chin. “You think that’s the best way?”

Kurusu nodded, a small smirk still on his face. Goro knew that confidence was a lie but didn't call attention to it. He was busy picking apart what he didn’t like about this idea. Shortly, all of it. It was a solid idea, but the idea of them separating and Kurusu taking the initiative against the Warden wasn’t settling well. The last time Kurusu was alone with his Shadow, he almost died. There were too many unknown factors and Kurusu to was too eager to move, thus too likely to misstep. He couldn’t say he didn’t understand his anxiety in this situation, but it would be incredibly stupid to jump the gun. Which… was what Kurusu was doing as he turned around. He reached out and caught the hem of a stained red glove just as the thief was about to emerge from their hiding spot.

“Wait.” He yanked him back and down into their previous crouching position.

“What?”

“This is obviously a trap, why are you rushing this? Let’s think about this a moment more.”

“Of course it’s a trap, but there’s nothing to really think over,” Kurusu countered back. “If we think about it harder, it’s not going to change anything.”

Goro’s fingers curled into his grip on the thief’s wrist. “I like to be sure I’m well equipped for all variables, leader.” He all but hissed out quietly, buying himself some more time to sift through the ramifications of this.

Kurusu, this unstable mess of a person, alone with a Shadow who could easily provoke him by taunts spelled out instant death in his mind.

So there was only one solution.

“We will do the plan if you switch roles with me. The Phantom Thieves can’t see you, so they will have no visual to pursue if it’s you. They would be able to corner me, no matter how well I know this place. That happens and Shadows get alerted and you have a crisis situation with too many unknown outcomes. So you be the distraction; I’ll go in the cells,” he quickly offered. It was a much more concrete plan. “You can give them the run around for 10 minutes, and they will be chasing a ghost. You sneak around them and we reconvene in 15 minutes and deal with this together.”

It was then that Kurusu stopped fighting the grasp on his wrist and settled down.

“Why?” His voice held an incredulous edge to it that egged Goro on to just tell him that he didn’t trust him to be alone with a monster version of himself.

“Because it makes more sense that way.”

“No, it doesn’t, the door to the cell opens with a fingerprint scanner—”

His words quickly finished Kurusu’s thought before he could let another sound out.

“It worked just fine for me when I got in there.”

“You shut off the power by wrecking the control room, right?”

He just had to remember  _ that _ pesky detail.

“It didn’t cut power to that door so it didn’t have any effect. However, I was able to use my fingerprint with no problem. I had no obstacles getting in,” he chided cooly, careful not to let his composure slip with the lie. Kurusu’s slate grey eyes seemed to be searching him for fallacies, distrust riddling the frown that appeared on his lips.

“I see,” was all he offered. Good.

“Okay, then—”

“I don’t trust you alone with my Shadow given your track record.”

It took everything in him not to groan in frustration. “If I wanted you to die, you would have been dead by now.”

“Like you haven’t tried.”

He finally released the irritated growl that had been tickling his throat. “I said we would talk about that later. Let’s focus on getting us out of here—”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It  _ is _ that simple. If we talk about it now, we will probably alert the guards and then Shadows.” He hissed in response, trying to keep his voice down but also urgent. “What then?”

“We do this my way, or not at all.”

Those slate grey eyes pierced his own relentlessly. Of course, now Kurusu had to show his stubborn streak. Where it was when he was about to be murdered by a distorted version of himself, Goro didn’t know, but it had to rear its ugly head against their progress. Any conversation now would be unsightly and would end up with them both getting outnumbered and outgunned. Those were odds he didn’t care for much. But logic wasn’t going to work; the smoldering defiance in Kurusu’s grey eyes told him all attempts at a sound argument would be met with idiotic retorts that straddled the line between reasonable and idealistic.

“Your way is a perfect route to get us killed.” He knew Kurusu didn’t trust him, nor did he necessarily hold it against him. He had every reason to doubt him and not a lot of time to build some sort of foundation for them to work together. Not a lot of time indeed. He heard a metal panel creak behind him from the strain of this Manifestation trying desperately to hold itself together.

“And your way is the perfect opportunity to silence me. So we are at an impasse.”

His mind was desperately working out solutions, any sort of angle he could take to tip the scales back in his favor.

He could hand over his gun. Unfavorable.

He could—

Dread pooled in his stomach. He had options still. Even if he hated everything his mind raced to pull together as a last resort.

There was really only one thing he could do. 

Quietly Goro reached up and wrenched the part of his mask obscuring his face off of its hinge. Normally force would be an applicable solution, overpowering his enemy to crumple to his feet. Under usual circumstances, this would be over in a matter of moments… however—

Kurusu immediately tensed in response to his actions, ready for a fight by bringing his own hand up to his face where his mask sat under sweaty bangs.

“Stop it, I’m not going to fight you. What would that accomplish?” He sighed and begrudgingly looked over the dark mask in his clawed hands. His instincts told him to cut the feet Kurusu stood upon out from under him. His intuition told him that reassurance was the better bet to play for his own sake.

“Here.” He handed it over to the Phantom Thief, who looked just about as conflicted as Goro felt.

“Why?” He watched as the thief held onto it tightly, giving it a look over like it was some sort of trick, but nevertheless not making a motion to hand the mask back. 

“I can’t summon my Persona without it, correct? So have it if it’d make you trust me a bit.” 

_ To trick your enemies you must first trick your allies. _

“You’d be defenseless-“

“And you’d be dead if you went against your Shadow in the state you are. We saw how well that went last time. I can hold my own without any sort of cognitive weapon.” If anything, he could pull the same stunt again, a gun to his own temple with the intent to shoot. “Either way, we don’t have time. Meet me back here in ten minutes. Go.”

Oh, there it was, that stubbornness again. The glint in those gray eyes narrowed to a sliver behind the mask and Goro felt hopeless frustration biting at his already frayed nerves.

“I don’t like this plan.”

“I don’t care if you like it. There is no choice here.” He countered, steeling his nerves in unbridled pertinacity. And yet the man in front of him did not flinch for even a moment at the anger the crackled in Goro’s voice. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

“Akechi, I’m not doing this.”

Grabbing Kurusu’s gun was incredibly easy as he argued with him. Such an amateur move to leave a weapon unattended during a time of strife. The handoff of the mask helped distract him at least. He threw it across the room without giving Kurusu a chance to react and watched it fall with a loud clack. It was far more satisfying than he thought it would be, getting some kind of outlet to channel his annoyance into. Among the tumble of sirens screeching in the air it may have been hard to hear the impact of the gun on the metal floor; however, it was enough to obviously gain some interest from the cognitive Phantom Thieves.

He couldn’t hear them but he saw them motioning towards where the noise came from. He only then took a moment to stand up, about to say something to Kurusu when the wind was knocked from his lungs as his back was thrown again the pillar they had been hiding behind.

He weakly laughed at the glare boring into his own eyes because of the pressure of Kurusu’s arm pinning his throat to the cold wall behind him. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes and he let out a half-hearted shrug at the question Kurusu never asked.

Why?

“You lack commitment, so I made the decision for us. You can thank me later.” He choked out that repeated phrase and gasped in the stale, dusty air as the pain subsided from his airways being cut off.

“Ten minutes.” Kurusu relented before holding out his hand. “Your gun. Now. And you're staying right here until I get back, you understand? We do this together."

His eyes were still watering from the lack of air filling his lungs but he managed a nod all the same. He figured that kind of conditional agreement was coming. Logically, it was a smarter plan to enter together and double their manpower. But it was a promise he intended on breaking. And that’s why handing over his mask made him feel… conflicted. Not because he intended to do something to Kurusu’s Shadow… but because it didn’t mean anything in the long run. It was another lie he sold to someone who was trusting him, and it didn’t settle well with his conscience.

He could summon a new mask at any point in time, but he knew upon handing it over and lying about his sacrifice of power that Kurusu was none the wiser to how that aspect of the Metaverse worked.

And Kurusu fell for it; hook, line and sinker.

He wouldn’t be defenseless per say, but his gun being taken from him was another matter entirely that made him  _ feel  _ vulnerable. His fingers clawed into the gun before it was snatched from his hand and Kurusu was soon nothing more than a flit of coat ducking around a pillar. He was doing well to make enough noise to be distracting but not enough to be obvious of what the plan was. Good. Now he just had to worry about buying enough time for him to get back so they could square off against this asshole. But he wanted some answers of his own.

This was the part that caused him a great deal of concern. He shot that stupid puppet; in retrospect, it wasn’t a good idea. Not that it didn’t feel so overwhelmingly satisfying, it just was the wrong move. A simple wrong move. But if he played it carefully, he knew he could buy himself some time.

After all, he had been watching the Warden for a while now. He knew how sensitive he was about the parrot he kept locked in the cells. Goro had worked his whole life to appear pliable and soft-spoken in attempts to blend into the world his mother left him in. He adapted to the harshness in order to survive. Learning the ins and outs of docile words to hide contempt had become something of a second nature to him by now. He could keep the Warden talking for ten minutes, he was sure of it. He was good at getting idiots to ramble about their intentions after two years of practice.

He massaged his throat and took a deep breath before he blinked the remaining moisture from his eyes and turned his attention to the door that led to the cell room, cleared of its occupants.

Truthfully, his curiosity was getting the better of him. What on earth caused this broken down  Manifestation to even exist in the first place? Seeing the state Kurusu was in, he knew getting any sort of honest answers from him was going to take a miracle or a large number of illegal drugs. It was too telling how this place even came to be that Kurusu would go in alone, and that his own cognitions of his friends, whom he refused to sell out during an intense interrogation, could not even see his physical self in this dump. There was no way that Kurusu was going to actually tell him what precisely was going on. He knew who would though, and he knew once he got him talking, he could probably keep him talking for a good while.

Maybe he'd find out if Shido was actually brought to justice and thoroughly humiliated as he should have been. Because as of that moment, he didn't trust that Kurusu held up his end of their bargain. The Warden would know, though.

Even if the Warden was as mentally deranged as the image of Goro he kept strapped up in a straight jacket.

Another deep breath later, Goro steeled his nerves before he quickly approached the door, making sure to double check around him that no Shadows had filtered in through the darkness of the sparse room. A familiar keypad greeted him. He slipped his glove off the press his thumb against the screen. The lie he told Kurusu earlier should have altered that small detail of his ability to gain access to the cell room; he supposed if worse came to worse, he could just go back and wait like some sort of patient dog for Kurusu to finally get back. It had been several minutes already so it wasn't going to be much longer unless there were issues. He trusted that Kurusu wouldn't run into any, despite the circumstances that actually lead him to keep a watchful eye over him in the first place.

There was no sense dwelling in the past, though.

A shrill buzzing noise was the only thing that greeted him. A flash of red light soon followed.

_ Access denied. _

Goro let out a sigh and pushed on the door for support as he slumped against it in bitter frustration.

The creak of it opening stopped him mid-breath. The door was... open this whole time? If he wasn't already painfully aware that he was playing on someone else's turf and into a highly probable trap, he would have known right then and there that crossing that threshold was a gamble. But his whole life had been calculated risks, so what was one more? Soon this would all be over anyway for better or worse. He stole a glance over his shoulder before he pushed the heavy door open more and slipped inside.

It snapped closed behind him with a sickening lurch.

The noise made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. The line of cells in the room gleamed in pristine condition, though it seemed brighter in here than the last time he had ventured this way. It was cooler again, far more than the stagnant atmosphere outside this room. It was clear to him once again that this was the epicenter of the distortion. The floor glittered in the overhead lights in a way that reminded him more of a hospital than a broken-down prison. The sterile feeling that clung to the air was making him dizzy, the scent of disinfectant a familiar homage to times where he had to cleanse his own wounds after ventures to Mementos and Distortions alike. 

The smell took him back to times where he had to stitch his own wounds closed and choke on his own sobs of pain. Times where he had to wrap his own gashes and set his own fingers into splints when he slipped up and got caught by Shadows during his working hours.

It was an environment he grew accustomed to in time: it was work and nothing more. At least, that's what he told himself to help adjust to the pain and the exhaustion. He deserved worse really; what was a broken bone or laceration in the end? It was easier to drown his pain in antiseptic rather than self-reflection. It was easier to pick up and move along to the next job than dwell on the past.

That's what this room reminded him of: a desperate splash of bleach and cleaner to try to cover the scent of rot and dismay. He knew it well.

The click of his shoes on the shining floor made him feel like he was exposed. Anyone in the long hall would be able to hear every move he made. Not that it was going to be an ambush. The Warden was obviously waiting for something like this. An unlocked door was like an invitation in, after all.

However, what did surprise him was what sounded like muffled clapping that echoed with his footsteps, causing him to halt. No weapons, no mask to summon either Loki or Robin Hood, though he had never tested his summoning capabilities without his mask. In a pinch, he could bluff, but he was sure that the mask was just a formality, much like the uniform of white and gray that he named Crow during his time with the Phantom Thieves.

He bristled, bracing himself just in case he would have to fend off anyone from an assault on his front. At least the room was nothing more than a long strip of cells. It made hiding very difficult and attacks could only come from the front and above realistically. It was easy to prepare for.

Only he didn't anticipate the empty space ahead of him to suddenly distort in a mass of grayish-blue mist that gave way to a figure clad in a deep blue uniform that made the striking yellow eyes that locked immediately onto his own all the more vivid. Under the tangle of dark curls, those eyes captivated him. The clapping continued as the Warden's wry smirk curled at the corners of his lips before dying out when he spoke.

"Very good of you to join me. I'd been expecting you for some time." His tone was nothing short of formal and polite, though a hint of mischief shone as brilliantly as the metal bars that surrounded them. "I will confess, you took a bit longer than I was anticipating." An unsung laugh hung in his words that made Goro's skin crawl.

However, he knew how to play this game.

"I'm so sorry to keep you waiting." He garnered some charm in his choice of words, apologetic and to the point.

"Don't apologize to me, I understand you had some dead weight yapping at your heels. I do hope you kicked him in his bruised pride."

His mind worked in double-time; keeping his options open now was ideal. This was not quite the welcome he was been picturing. He expected a direct conflict, shouting and reasoning with someone off-kilter and filled with rage. He killed that cognitive version of himself, right? The last time they saw each other only an hour or so ago, the Warden lunged at him with lethal intent. He assumed the same would happen... not a hand being extended to him.

And yet that gloved hand was out in front of him, beckoning… luring him.

This was far more dangerous than someone obviously unhinged. Keeping it calm meant something unpredictable. Angry people were far easier to handle. Ones who kept a simple smile on their face that contradicted the energy radiating off of them were far more concerning. 

It was better to agree.

"You could say I took care of him. I have things I want to talk to you about, and he would have been nothing but a nuisance." He began to explain while contemplating the hand still being offered to him.

"Of course he would, buzzing around,  _ begging  _ for your attention like a desperate puppy." The Warden took a step towards Goro, grabbing his wrist in a sudden movement before tilting his chin up with the other hand. He resisted the urge to break his hand away and step back when their eyes met. His breath caught in his throat, surprised by the bold move into his personal space. He fought the reflex that curled in his fingers to shove him away. There was something here that he needed an explanation for, too many things. He marked this on his list.

"Ah, this is much more satisfying, is it not?" The fingers that cradled his chin moved to trail up his cheek. There was a tender fondness in his voice that made him shudder. He could feel the heat of his breath on his face as he drew even closer to him.

He found the strength to back away. "What do you mean?"

"This." The gloved hand motioned to the small space between them. "Much better you than some fake shrieking in a cell. Much better I than some awestruck little bitch tethering you to the ground." He gave him a warm smile that chilled him. "I have missed you, my Crow."

Goro fought the urge to raise an eyebrow and the nausea that crept up his throat at the Warden’s description of his real world self. The droll of his codename being spoken so delicately made him want to punch the Shadow in the face. He masked the urge with a practiced and precise picturesque smile to buy him some more time to process what he was just heard.

The grip on his right hand had not lessened.

"Have you? We saw each other not so long ago and you were exceedingly angry. Did you forget?"

"I've changed my mind." The Warden hummed as he brought Goro's wrist up to his mouth. He tried to suppress a flinch as warm lips pressed to the skin between his own clawed glove and sleeve. The longer they stayed like this, the more confused he was. But... this almost made sense in a very strange way. Had this prison really been created because of him?

No. That wasn't the only thing. It couldn’t be the only thing, right? He wasn’t  _ that  _ important to Kurusu… just the idea of him, maybe.

He pulled his hand away from the lips that still grazed his skin and sent shivers down his spine. It was caught again, this time with a vice grip like hold.

The Warden licked his lips, haunting yellow eyes narrowing on him like a spotlight. "I didn't say you could do that, did I? Count your blessings I am merciful. Now, I have a present for you."

The bite of the Shadow's fingers was cutting off the circulation in his hand now, but he yielded as the Warden guided him away from the entrance. He stole a glance back to see if his back up had arrived. It hadn't.

Good, he still had time if he was quick about it.

"Warden—"

The other's head snapped back to him, lips set in a grimace of irritation. "Don't call me that." His words came out in a staccato, emphasizing each word. "It's Akira. It's  _ Akira _ to you." The name made the Shadow flinch as he spoke and Goro wished he would stop squeezing down on his arm so tightly.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he cooed, clearing his throat and swallowing. "Akira." It felt foreign on his tongue, gritty like dirt.

"Yes, Goro?"

And that sounded like a curse dredged in honey rather than his name.

"What happened to cause this place?" He asked cautiously as he followed.

"No!" His hand was dropped, much to his surprise. The writhing anger that seeped through the Warden’s crackling voice was one that would have made him draw a weapon… should he have had one. "No questions until this is done!" In this light he could see everything clearly, the way the Warden’s eyebrows furrowed, the lock of his jaw, the trembling of his lips like a starved dog ready to rip him apart at a moment’s notice…

Goro rubbed his wrist, easing the blood back into his numb hand, doing his utmost not to react to the strained reaction radiating off the Shadow before he seemed to settle down almost as quickly as he snapped. “After we finish this, you can ask all the questions you want. I promise.”

The unease of his steps sounded in the echo of the room as he was lead down to the very end of the hall. That much was already obvious. Perhaps the Warden was tapering his anger to make Goro pay for his crimes against the cognition that resided in the cell.

Only… it was empty. The door was opened wide. His stomach dropped upon seeing the cell void of its usual screaming occupant.

“Where is he?” he heard himself ask, though he didn’t recognize the hollow tone he offered to a question he didn’t know he wanted an answer to. He already knew, after all. He already knew.

Another open door, another obvious trap. His presence must have altered more than he originally thought… which meant that at its core, this Manifestation in Kurusu’s heart was built on… him.

So once his presence was known to Kurusu, the thought of him being alive overrode the blubbering mess inside the cell?

“He outlived his usefulness.” The Warden answered in his ear before walking ahead of him once again, ushering to the door. “After all, how useful can a mockery be in the presence of the authentic? I took care of him, for you.” He explained, his gaze shifting over to the empty cell.

Like a bucket of ice water had washed over him, Goro found his steps cemented to the ground as his muscles froze up.

It was much more sinister than he imagined.

“The thing you protected above all else, you murdered?” He scoffed, barely able to keep from drawing parallels to the other individuals who found him disposable. “And you think I’m going to graciously accept your offer of confinement? I’m not getting in there.”

The Warden turned to him, the grin on his face split wider than he had ever seen.

“Murdered? No, I merely rid this world of someone who could not compare to you. Isn’t that what you want? A home, a place where someone actually wants you?”

The calm, patient face he had been masquerading since he walked through the open door crumbled into dust at his feet. “You mean a place where someone can display me like a trophy? This isn’t a home, it’s _ prison _ , Warden.”

“You dare spit on the gift I granted you? Do you not understand?! You don’t GET it!” The Shadow grabbed him before he could take a step back and retreat, only to slam him against the bars of a neighboring cell. Goro coughed at the impact and made his back ache as the metal dug into his back. “This whole place was made for you; you are ungrateful! You ruined me. You  _ ruined _ me. I was perfectly fine until you came along and now you disrespect me by sneering at the place you belong? This place I created specifically for you?!” He yelled in his face, his timber drowning out the muffled grunts of pain that came from Goro as the Warden pressed against him harder, their faces now mere centimeters apart. He bleakly opened his eyes to stare into the amber ones boring into him.

“ _ You _ ruined yourself. I didn’t do any more than I was hired to—I’m not some toy for you to play around with,” he spat out with difficulty, struggling against the grip and weight of his captor. The Warden’s hands were like fire coursing through him, burning him where they grabbed him. Fighting against him was almost like attempting to kick at a brick wall.

“No, you aren’t a toy, no. No, no. That was the world, and I already burned it away.” The Warden’s broken laughter and desperate whispers ghosted his face as the Shadow leaned in closer to him. “The only way I can keep you safe is in that room, Goro. If I have to drag you in there, so be it. You’re the only thing that matters. You’re the only thing left now.”

“Keeping me hostage and at your mercy? Over my dead body.” He retorted, eyes narrowing.

“Oh no, we can’t have that again. You can rule this place beside me; I can finally tell you everything I’ve wanted to tell you. I can tell you what I gave up and— Stop looking at me! Stop looking at me like I’m nothing but trash to you!”

It was his turn to laugh. This was all so absurd. “Me? Beside you? And why on Earth would I ever accept such an offer—”

The lips that pressed against his own cut his question off before he could continue. The panic that had been steadily rising in him reached the point of absolute stillness. The warmth that invaded his mouth sent him to the calm center of the storm of emotions racing around him from the moment he awoke in this nightmare place. The pressure he felt from the Warden’s body had all but lifted. He was light, like a feather. Not because there was a satisfaction bubbling inside of him… no, nothing like that.

It was because nothing stirred around him at the moment. There was no fear, no confusion, no anxiety.

There was just numbness.

A numbness that was quickly overwritten by the storm of anger that clouded his judgment, brewing hastily in his mind.

The anger swept over him as he struggled against the urge to strangle the very being taking advantage of his vulnerable state. It would be so easy, to stab it, the shoot it, to watch it writhe in pain on the ground beneath his foot as it struggled against the temptation of complete insanity he could cause. That’s where Shadows belonged, after all. How was this one any different? His weakness was that he went into this with an aching curiosity. However, it could be remedied quickly.

He knew it wasn’t the smart move. This wasn’t the way this needed to go. The logical side of him was at war at that moment with the emotional side of him that wanted to lash out and destroy. The logical side of him was trying to soothe the hurt that ripped through him. He was being used again. He was being blamed for everything all over again. And it disgusted him.

The logical side was failing.

_ Let’s just kill him. _

_ Let’s just rip him apart. _

He was going to destroy this Shadow like any other. He could will his mask back to his side, easily. Handing it over to Kurusu was really nothing more than a useless formality, another little trick up his sleeve meant to soothe Kurusu's worries rather than give him actual leverage over Goro. It wasn’t as if the mask contained Loki. He was always beside him, day or night, Metaverse or not. With this much surge of emotions, he could at least make the Warden suffer for looking down on him, for treating him just like everyone else in his life had treated him: as a plaything. And right now Loki was itching underneath his skin like a parasite waiting to infect yet another worthless piece of shit that deserved it.

He was going to—

“Akechi!”

His name whizzed through the air with a flash of light that sent the Warden toppling over, breaking contact with him before the whole world slowed down in Goro’s eyes. He stepped back, feeling the energy crackling through his spine dissipate before he could unleash that devastating blow to the Shadow that threatened him. Another strike flew through the air, pushing the Warden back towards the end of the hall with a sickening crack.

He looked over to see Kurusu standing there, heaving as he was doubled over.

In that moment, the itching subsided. The calmness overtook him again in a way that dissolved the crackling energy that surged up his spine. A storm that passed over without even a drop of rain.

Something inside his chest tightened at the sight of him. A bitter fondness he didn’t have time to dwell on as the logical side of his internal struggle tipped back to some form of composure. 

He dashed back to him. There was anger evident in his eyes but Goro decided to brush passed it for the sake of his logical side making a much needed appearance at long last. They needed to take this thing down together now.

“You’re late.” He remarked offhandedly, catching the mask that had been thrown to him with careless ease.

“And you broke your promise,” Kurusu growled back to him, his eyes trained on the Warden who was shakily standing up.

“Well, I am a detective. Curiosity got the better of me.”

“You’re also a liar.”

He mustered a soft chuckle and shrugged. “I suppose you caught me red-handed.”

Goro saw the other loosen up after his admittance. It seemed the truth behind his statement was enough for them both to put their anger aside for now.

“You’ve got some explaining to do when we get out of here.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

They both watched the Shadow stagger to his feet after falling down a few more times from the impact. Kurusu really had good timing; another moment and Goro would have slaughtered his Shadow without another blink. He wondered just how much he saw though, and if the unsteadiness the Warden was displaying had something to do with Kurusu seeing his Shadow latch himself onto Goro and kiss…

He shook his head. It was definitely not something he wanted to think about. A flicker of enmity knotted his stomach before he took a deep breath.

“Remember what I told you?” He asked his companion, whose gaze hadn’t moved from his Shadow for a moment.

“Accept what it says,” Kurusu answered back coldly. “I remember.”

“Good, because the last thing we want to actually do is fight him. How were the conditions outside?”

Kurusu unleashed another attack from a Persona that resembled a horse covered in multiple eyes and its rider. It knocked the Warden down once more, buying them a bit more time to discuss.

“It's on the fritz. Especially since I went back to where I left you and you weren’t there. The whole floor shook. Didn’t you feel it?”

A pit of guilt gnawed at his stomach. A direct correlation to his actions, no doubt. “No. Must be a separate area phenomenon of some sort. I haven’t experienced someone confronting their Shadow first hand, so I’m not clear on how the cognitions get affected under these circumstances. I just know what I read from past reports—”

A wail from the other end of the hall made him stop his explanation. The Warden was up now, panting visibly even from their distance. This was going to be bad; he could feel it in his gut.

“You.” The Shadow rasped shakily, taking steps towards them. “You dare show your face here?”

Beside him, Kurusu tensed. “It’s over; back off.”

The Shadow shook his head. “It’s not over. This place will not fall. You won’t let it because you can’t accept it.”

Kurusu began to speak but was promptly cut off by the echo of his own voice speaking over him.

“You already sacrificed the whole world for your own ego, you... the judge and executioner.”

He saw the other stiffen from the accusation.

What was going on?

The Warden mentioned something similar before… the world as his toy, right?

“Shut up,” the thief responded, his words faltering.

“Why are you so ashamed? You made your decision. That’s why this place exists, right? Because you couldn’t let go of being a Phantom Thief. Some noble ‘leader’ who would change the world. You did it. I applaud you for turning your back on everyone counting on you to help you feel better about how worthless you actually are. I wonder what mom and dad would think, hm? If they even remember such a shameful son in the first place.” The Shadow taunted in a mock cheery voice that was grating on Goro’s nerves. “You won’t allow this place to disappear because you know you deserve a real prison again.”

“Kurusu.” He glanced over at him.

“Shut up.” Was all he heard before the Warden began to speak again.

“You were tasked with rehabilitation and yet you became the jailer. A slave to the very system you fought against so much. And for what? For your own gain? To live your little fantasy a bit longer? You're pathetic." The Warden snarled, still hunched over, shoulders rattling with every breath he took.

"I didn't—"

"Kurusu," He urged him suddenly, catching his wrist. "Remember what I told you; you have to accept it." The gaze that fell on him was one that startled him. Those slate grey eyes swimming in uncertainty. Denial clung to his eyelashes in the form of frustrated tears. The bite of his lip made Goro mirror the action and Kurusu scratched at his neck before yanking his wrist from Goro's grasp.

"I heard you the first time—!" He mumbled to him before he stood up straight once more, motioning to the Warden standing before him.

"We aren't going to fight you," he explained, his voice low and assertive. "We are going to get out of here and you'll be nothing more than—"

"Than  _ what  _ Joker? Are you to confess your sins with your own mouth? Are you going to accept me? You have a lot to admit to. Are you going to broadcast it to the whole world what you did? How you became so obsessed with a ghost of someone who tried to murder you that you became weak and expendable?"

Kurusu lost his words, dying on his lips as the Warden stepped closer.

"About how your friends found you so feeble that they didn't even notice you struggling? Or if they did notice, that they didn't care? Poor  _ Joker,  _ our once valiant leader, is nothing more than a liability. Are you going to talk about the spider lilies? About the  _ jacket? _ About how you enslaved every person to a mindless mass? Admit it, Joker, you did this because you wanted  _ power. You wanted power because you are weak. _ "

"N—"

"Joker just accept it." He grabbed his shoulder, spinning him to look directly at him. The pain that flashed in Kurusu's eyes made his heart ache with something akin to sympathy, but now was no time to be soft. "You have to or this whole place is going to collapse, do you understand?"

"No, I don't think he does." The Warden laughed. "Look around you, my Crow, you will see the truth behind my words and the evidence of his sin. Allow me to show you what he will never tell you." Goro watched as the Warden threw his arms to his side and laughed.

True enough, the room began to tremble. The screeching of metal panels filled the air as they slumped off the walls around them. The floor beneath their feet melted away, fizzled into panes of glass. He had enough presence of mind to catch Kurusu as their surroundings shook. It didn't stop them from falling down, though.  He flinched as they both collapsed to the ground, his mask protecting him from colliding into Kurusu's shoulder when he landed on top of him. 

All around them the air was filled with the moans and screams of demolition. Nothing fell on them as they both recovered enough to huddle together. Everything falling dissolved either upon impact with the floor of the prison or in the air overhead... The prison was seemingly shedding its skin.

Kurusu was trembling in his arms, covering his ears and burying his face in his knees, whispering pointless apologies to him that he could barely hear over the crashes that surrounded them. And even more difficult to hear over was the manic laughter of the Warden, who Goro could still see through the debris.

He was beginning to see now, though... what the Warden meant.

As the jail began to shift, he could see that the glass panels that now surrounded them were filled with people.

Countless unconscious people sleeping in what seemed like tombs all around them, making up the very structure of the Manifestation they were still stuck in. The walls, the floor... the ceiling. He could see it stretching endlessly around them. 

"Look at them,  _ Joker _ ," the Warden yelled out as the world calmed around them. "There are millions more. Just like them. Every single person you damned. Every single person you killed for your own vanity."

Kurusu flinched again. "No. No, no."

He stole a glance at the Warden and frowned. This was all so much to take in… the tombs of people Kurusu felt responsible for? The way the Warden was pacing back and forth where he had been taken down earlier? Wasn’t this denial enough to trigger the change in the Shadow to warp into some hideous monster? What happened to the shift that was supposed to happen when someone denied their own Shadow? That's what he had read about in some of Wakaba's notes, so why wasn't it happening? Why was all of this so unpredictable?

"Joker." He called his codename, trying to bring attention back to him. "Joker, please just take responsibility for this."

"I didn't do anything wrong." He whispered, finally looking up at Goro, tears visibly streaming down his face under the smudged mask still adorning his face. He wanted to slap some sense back into him. This was all so much it was making his head spin.

_ Be patient.  _ He heard Robin Hood whisper against his ear. 

"Now you're the liar." Goro sighed deeply, echoing back Kurusu’s earlier accusation.

"No one loves a liar," the Warden chided. "Accept it, Kurusu Akira, you've lost to your own desire. You are a human, you are a wild card, you are a trickster who saved the world from ruin by destroying it with your own hands."

"Joker," he said again, more sternly. It didn't seem like the Warden was trying to pose a threat to them anymore, for he stood exactly where he had been this entire time since Kurusu came in to attack him.

He didn't understand exactly what was going on but the moment Kurusu looked up to him, he motioned around them. "Look at them. You did this."

And the look on Kurusu's face told him more than the Warden ever could have. He was guilty. He knew that grimace well... that rasping gasp of utter hopelessness. He knew it well... he had been through that realization far too often in his life. The kind where it was hard to cry, even scream, because it didn't feel like he deserved an outlet for his frustrations... so he kept it buried deep inside until it made him nauseous with rueful spite. The kind where it made him want to vomit his sins but could not allow himself to do so.

He knew that's what was plaguing Kurusu now as he took a look around what his Palace had become, a prison of guilt manifested in the form of innocent and guilty people alike making up his own distortion.

"Akira." He hooked his fingers under the Phantom Thief's chin and shifted the attention back to him. "Akira, tell me..." He took in a shuddering breath after using his name for the first time. "Did you do all this?" He motioned around them.

As soon as Kurusu began to shake his head, Goro pressed a finger into his lips. "Stop lying. You know I've done... bad things as well."

_ Necessary things. _

_ Necessary things. _

He cleared his throat and moved his hand away. "You did this, right?"

Kurusu quivered before mustering a nod. 

"You damned the world?" He had no idea what that meant, but he was sure he would find out as soon as they were out of here.

"Yes." Kurusu's voice cracked.

"You were weak and wanted power?" He parroted the words the Warden spoke earlier and watched Kurusu nod again.

"I am weak." He laughed softly. "I couldn't even tell anyone I was struggling. They didn't even notice."

"I'm sure they did," Goro countered, unsure how to reassure him at this point. He hardly felt like he should be giving advice on friendship. Especially because Kurusu had everything he could ever want and yet… and yet he felt this way? The urge to slap him washed over him once more but he resisted and heeded his other selves’ words. Be patient.

He could try to be a friend right now, even if the only friend he had was Sae and... he guessed the mess in front of him.

"Maybe..."

He felt like he needed to say the right thing; his words were crucial at this moment and he took a deep breath. He didn't know how he was going to make this better but he squeezed Kurusu's gloved hand in his own and smiled sheepishly at him.

"Want to know a secret? I was weak and wanted power once too, and I did whatever it took to get it..." His smile almost instantly turned to a frown. "And yet—I'm still here. Against all odds. So just accept it. You fucked up... now fix it. You're not some worthless person, right? My rival isn't some useless child... so why are you backing down from this now?"

The pain in Kurusu's face dulled as he fought back a small chuckle. "I... I suppose you caught me red-handed.  _ This _ ,” He motioned around them, “all of this was me."

An ear-splitting scream like shattering glass whizzed through the air.

"Because I didn't want the Phantom Thieves to stop," Kurusu continued as the sounds of glass breaking followed his every word. "Because I was losing control and it scared me."

Goro clenched his fist, trying to keep his anger at bay. The nerve of him to fall this far over something like that was laughable. The boy who had everything. He swallowed his bitterness once more and encouraged him to continue.

He guessed some part of him understood though, he too lost himself to an incredibly personal grudge. Grief can do that to anyone…

“So you reduced the world to this?” He asked softly.

"I reduced the world to this."

The urge to hit him in the face was getting harder to resist. However, the bursting of glass distracted them both as the air was filled with glittering shards that morphed into a flurry of deep red petals that curled in the draft created from the Palace walls shattering. They both turned towards the Warden who was clapping once again.

"I shall see you again. Not now, but soon," he called out. "You have much to atone for, tricksters."

Dread seized his throat as the figure dressed in dark blue dissolved into a plume of smoke and the Palace around them broke away into darkness.

"Goro, I—" Kurusu grabbed his hand before they fell.

And collided with the snow-dusted concrete of Shibuya crossing.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm @chromiekins on twitter. Come shout at me!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Hello! Thank you for sticking with me for now over 100k of words. That's... so many words. originally this fic was going to be 100k words total and now we have kinda soared above that and still going. Thank you for your encouragement and love for this fic. It means a lot to me! 
> 
> Thank you to [Reiko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selvanic) and [Kaykee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainRessentiment) for betaing. Yall really are my rock and foundation. I appreciate yall so much! And, of course, thanks to my wife for progressively kicking my whole ass.

The sensation of wind wrapping around him was rapidly replaced with the crunch of cement as he collided with the ground. The impact knocked the icy feeling that had settled in his body out with a heated, rushing pain that made him cry out in shock. It had all happened so fast that his mind was barely able to comprehend anything other than the fall. He coughed and rolled over, gasping raggedly, trying in vain to offset the screaming of his brain to stop the pain by any means necessary... 

Beside him someone coughed as well, no doubt recovering from the same fall. But maybe it was his imagination, the desperate reaching for some sort of hope. He almost didn’t believe it, though he achingly wanted nothing more than for this to be the truth. How many times had he gotten his fragile hopes up only for them to be bashed harder than he had been into the ground?

He closed his eyes and let himself succumb to the pain that was searing through him. It was easier than acknowledging that the whole thing… may not have been real. Any amount of pain was better than that. Even a speck of belief that this whole nonsense had been true was all his sanity felt like it was teetering on. A thin wire that threatened to snap under any weighted doubt that loomed over him and send him plummeting faster than he just had through the air.

But he heard that cough again and an audible curse. His heart rose in response, ripping itself from his chest to his throat and choking him.

It was only then that he found the strength to turn back around, ignoring the pain in his back to see Akechi Goro, sitting up and rubbing his severely underdressed arms from the tepid winter air. He felt a shiver himself, but not from the cold nor the pain…

Something indescribable washed over him as he watched the detective sit up and begin to take note of their surroundings. He couldn’t find words; they retreated to take residency in his chest, sticking along the space where his heart once was, fumbling over themselves trying to form a coherent sentence, some utterance of relief or dismay—anything. His mind could not arrange them in any form and he was contented to just observe the detective as he himself sat up. He could tell by his movements that he was bleeding underneath his uniform from the impact with the sidewalk, but Akira was apprehensive to draw any sort of attention to himself right now. He settled for making an effort to sit up and reflect.

He had entered his own Palace, confronted a Shadow of himself, was saved by the person who had progressively taken over his entire mind since his death and—

Watched as that very person was cornered by a thing that was supposed to represent his true self… that insane Warden who told him he was nothing but a failure seeking power.

The panic that loomed over him when he returned to the rendezvoused pillar to find it unoccupied manifested in a bone-rattling shake beneath him. He had done well to mislead the cognitive jailers shaped like the Phantom Thieves without rousing their suspicions of his actual presence. He hated to admit that Akechi’s plan worked out better than his own, and he loathed the actions the other took to ensure he agreed to the plan. But really, he should have expected something similar from the real Akechi, right? He was someone that took what he wanted. He shouldn’t have been caught so off-guard that he went to such extremes to give him his mask. It was probably a meaningless offer. He could never see Akechi being the type to hand over his power to anyone fully. However, the peace offering had softened his stance just enough to make him feel certain that Akechi meant what he said, that they were going to work through this together.

So the dull ache of betrayal was something he wasn’t accounting for when he returned to find Akechi not there. He figured he got impatient or cornered by a Shadow with no way to fight, maybe. Still trying to give the other the benefit of a doubt, he knew that Akechi hadn't let himself be defeated. There were no guards around, no change other than the shake in the Palace around him. He knew he was in the cell room, that he had gone ahead of him. To talk to the Warden? Probably. So much for their truce.

Only, some part of him was passively okay with the outcome. That Akechi had gone back on his word and went in ahead meant he was able to predict at least one action correctly. He hadn't been surprised to find out he had abandoned the post because it truly seemed like something Akechi would do.

It means he knew Akechi better than he had thought before, the very thing plaguing him this entire month since the iron wall went up between them and those two bullets rang through the air. It helped him feel, at least in this place, he had some knowledge… some control over his own spiraling mind.

However, what he wasn’t okay with was the sight of Akechi cornered in that hallway rowed with cells by his Shadow. He knew what he saw, he knew the Warden was kissing him—

He didn’t know how to process that part, but he knew that the instant he realized exactly what was unfolding in front of him, adrenaline surged through his veins, his voice ripping from his throat with enough force to make it crack from the strain. Like screaming was going to draw attention away from Akechi and place it solely on himself. It had worked for the most part, and the stress of the situation around him pushed any thought of his Shadow-self partaking in such intimacy with Akechi far from his head.

There were worse things, far worse things, at play. Like admitting that the very reason he had a Palace erected in the first place. Because he was alone in this world, truly. Because he didn't want to give up the one way of life he had carved out for himself. Who would want to be around him if he was not powerful enough to help those around him? Who would want him if he wasn't Joker?

The answer was no one. And he was still very sure about that.

He was still lost in his own thoughts when he finally registered that Akechi was talking to him.

"Kurusu, pay attention— Do you see them?" He heard Akechi ask through the chattering of his teeth. He blinked, fully taking in the sight in front of him once again as his mind caught up to the present. Akechi stared at him, gaze hot enough to melt the snow that had fallen on him as they sat there.

"N-no, what?" He had thought to offer Akechi his jacket, a pang of guilt rushing over him when he recalled what happened to his other jacket. It was okay; the detective didn't need to know its fate. That was really the least of their worries right now. They had a lot to discuss, and the immediate situation was to get out of this weather.

"My attache case, my phone?" Akechi asked bitterly, looking around once more before crawling to his feet and rubbing his arms again.

Akira took the time to look around as well and found not a hint of the silver case embellished with that signature A of his. Nor any model of phone lying about in the snow. He did discover his own bag, which he had entered the Metaverse with, laying some distance away from him. He let out a sigh. That was comforting, at the very least. 

He heard the other curse under his breath. He was standing over him now, still furiously rubbing his arms and searching aimlessly.

“It’s fine, it’s backed up…” He heard Akechi mumble darkly under his breath before turning his attention back to Akira. "Get up then, I didn't just get out of that prison just to freeze to death in the snow."

That insurmountable feeling returned to him, bittersweet and ever so insatiably carving away at his chest with vigor.

"Right, sorry." He hoisted himself up to his feet as well, dusting the bits of snow off of his shoulders and side, mindful of the bruises that were no doubt gracing his skin where he fell. That aching sensation waned just as quickly as it came, nervousness taking its place. He collected his own bag and looked through it, seeing most of his items, including his incredibly drained cell phone. He turned back to the detective, brandishing it.

“Maybe yours got in my bag somehow?” He knew the Warden had stolen everything from him when he captured him, so he was relieved to see it returned. However, upon further inspection, Akechi’s phone, or anything else that may have been his, was not in Akira’s bag. 

“Well?” The detective trudged over to him to peer into the bag. Akira frowned and closed it up. 

“No… only my things.”

“Well, at least that was recovered, I suppose.” The disappointment in Akechi’s voice was thunderous.

"Ah." His words failed him yet again. "We need to get out of the snow."

The look Akechi gave him was enough to make him want to lay back down in the snow and never say anything again.

"You don't say."

He almost missed the charming albeit very fake Akechi. Almost.

That was an almost he was actually okay with.

"Well, I don't have my case, which means I don't have the keys to my apartment, nor any money. Nor anything else of consequence." Akechi began to explain. Not that keys really mattered; he knew he could break into the detective's apartment with a simple lockpick. But it had been a month. He was sure that eviction would have happened by now.

"Leblanc then. We have the private baths across the way and I can heat us up curry for dinner."

"Please. I don't know how long it's been but—"

"A month." Akira cut him off, chewing at the bottom of his lip. "It's been a month since you died."

They both fell quiet for a moment before Akechi laughed softly, his breath materializing before disappearing into the chilled air like a candle extinguished."That's not what I was going to say. I didn't mean since I died, Kurusu... I was talking about since I woke up in that prison. I haven't eaten in a while and a bath sounds refreshing."

He didn't say anything, there was nothing he could say yet again. He swallowed dryly and resisted the urge to reach out and touch Akechi just to assure himself that this was not one of his more vivid nightmares... that if he touched him he would once again find a solid figure rather than a billow of smoke waiting to disintegrate in his grasp once again. Akira's fingers shook from the temptation to do just that and settled for pushing snow stained glasses up on the bridge of his nose again.

"Let's go then," he mumbled.

They walked together in silence. Once they were inside the station, it was a bit warmer and Akira thought it best if he shrugged off his uniform and offered it to the detective. He was met with a polite decline.

"I'm fine. My fall wasn't as hard as yours, it seems." The keen glint in Akechi's dark eyes flustered him. The detective motioned to Akira's body and caused him to look down at himself. He had been so lost to the cold of the January evening and so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he neglected to remember that he had injured himself when the ground caught him. True enough, his usually pristine shirt was dirtied by splotches of blood from the scraped skin. He had had worse, but since the detective didn’t seem too interested in Akira’s jacket, he decided to put it back on as they walked to a machine to buy Akechi's ticket since his transit card was also missing.

When Akira was punching in the commands, he noticed the detective's attention was diverted, his eyes trailing to the groups of people surrounding televisions throughout Shibuya Station. Akira was curious too and he looked to see what was so fascinating as the ticket printed. It didn't seem like there was anything worthy at all of the crowd it drew, just the normal news segment that had become all too commonplace in the last week. Right now the latest victory of the Phantom Thieves was playing and the crowd cheered with gusto. It was a scene that had also become rather frequent in areas where the news aired. Akira had noticed it; however, he paid it no mind until it caught Akechi's attention. It was only due to the detective’s scrupulous focus on the crowd that made him realize that people gathering around a TV display may be rather odd. Not particularly odd to him. He knew why. Given that the world was just doing as it was told to do and feeling how it was told to feel via ways of the newscasts and the actions of the Phantom Thieves, a perfect reason behind this. However, upon seeing the scrawling ponderance that settled into a frown on the detective’s face, Akira knew Akechi was aware something was very off here.

"Come on, we're going to miss our train."

"Right..." The air of caution that hung on Akechi's affirmation haunted him as they boarded the very quiet train. All he could hear were murmurs of Phantom Thief activity. He could feel dark, inquiring eyes boring into him, whose gaze he didn’t dare meet. A flush of shame flooded his cheeks and he gently coughed into his hand to distract himself from the sensation of being, seemingly, analyzed. However, he knew he didn’t have any reason to feel so ashamed. He saved the world from ruin, after all. Maybe because he hadn't exactly kept his promise to the very person he failed to protect was the source of the tight knot forming in his stomach. And that person was staring very pointedly at him as if trying to fit some unknown puzzle together and figure him out. 

"Funny," Akechi spoke up after they exited the train with no hint of amusement in his voice. Akira's stomach dropped, knot and all. "All the news outlets I've seen so far have said nothing about the election... and only seem to be talking about the Phantom Thieves. You didn't disband them then I presume."

How could he disband them when the world needed them so much?

He hadn’t yet kept his promise to bring Shido to justice either…

He was still working on that.

"Things happened, Akechi."

"Oh, I'm sure they did." It was hard to miss the underlying sarcasm in his words but the thief did his best to ignore it.

They walked past yet another crowd that was fascinated with the news being broadcasted and Akira cursed himself mentally. He tried to keep Akechi moving, but he knew the moment the detective stopped by the crowd this was going to go downhill.

And it did.

"Excuse me," He heard Akechi say behind him. He stopped and turned, watching the other man gaining the attention of a young couple. "What is happening that's so interesting to so many?"

Akira's heart raced as the man just stared at him.

It was the woman who answered, her voice distant and admirable. "It's the Phantom Thieves. They are so cool."

Akechi chuckled and Akira did his best to fight his urges to rip him away from the conversation.

"They're cool? What did they do?"

"They caught another one. They are cool," the woman repeated.

"Why do you think so?"

"Can't you see what they did? They stopped a criminal. They are cleaning up Japan and all the corruption our government keeps hidden. They are going to find them all and save us."

Akechi tapped his chin with his finger, staring in thought. "Well, what if they are wrong?"

The woman laughed at him which obviously startled the detective, and the way his smile melted into a frown made Akira's blood run cold.

"They can’t be wrong. They are justice. We are lucky to have them."

"Akechi—" Akira walked towards him but stopped mid-step when the detective held up his hand to him, motioning for him to leave him alone.

"The Phantom Thieves can’t be wrong? I don't think that's a wise way to look at it."

That's when Akira noticed they were gaining attention. The crowds that had been watching the news had slowly begun to turn towards the conversation, staring at the detective as he spoke without making a sound. Another chill ran down his spine.

The woman merely stood there for a moment before speaking again. "They are the law, you will learn soon. I hope they find some way to forgive you."

Akira took that moment to reach for the detective's wrist. "Come on, let's go."

Akechi yielded; however, the look in his eye was sharp enough that Akira felt the immediate threat in his gaze.

"What is going on here?" He pulled his wrist out of Akira's grasp but followed him nonetheless to the train platform to take them back to Leblanc.

"A lot has happened." He mumbled, not venturing to pay Akechi any real mind. He knew it would just escalate. At least at Leblanc, it would be more private than the swarm of people who were around them using the subway station.

"You've said that, already. What did you do?"

"I made a choice. We can talk about this once we are at the cafe, Akechi, please." He tried his best to keep his voice steady. It seemed to work because Akechi just nodded at him slowly and didn't say anything else the rest of the trip back. Truthfully, it had been something Akira had been noticing the last week since he’d decided the fate of humanity in the Velvet Room. The approval rating on the Phan-Site was always at 100% now, the comments always compliments and praise. They had already dealt with over 100 cases of all sorts, Palaces after Palaces, journeys through Mementos... all had led to nothing but positive things with the Phantom Thieves. But Akira hadn't thought just how weird that was. It was nice to have approval for once. It made them all feel like they were doing some good. Or at least, that’s how he felt. Back a few months ago, Akechi Goro was by no means their only critic... but now their only opposition was when they themselves disagreed on targets—

Other than that, the public was just an echo chamber for their justice.

And Akira looked at that as a good thing.

He had suffered for the whole of humanity already by being chewed up by the system of oppression where justice turned a blind eye to him.

So he became justice. And it was the correct thing to do, even if he had to carry the weight of his choice with him forever. It was nothing more than a stain on his conscious now.

Everyone won in this situation, except for the criminals who continued to exploit the weak. And he intended to stomp them out. Shido wouldn’t be able to hide behind his shield of protection soon enough if they kept dismantling the organization keeping him safe.

So, he didn't regret his choice. It was much better than the alternative... which was a world in ruin…

He watched Akechi tap his foot impatiently out of the corner of his eye and knew that once he explained everything, the other would understand. Akechi of all people would understand him. Hadn’t he always? There had been a pulse between them, a magnetic pull that could not be defined by anything other than rivals. But, at the core of the issue, they were far more similar than different. Outcasts of society who struggled to keep themselves swimming against a sea of indifference and empty sympathy in their lives. Akechi, an illegitimate son of a twisted politician seeking revenge on his father for his mother's death and abandonment. And Akira, someone who stood up against that same twisted politician for the sake of another only to have society cast him aside for a prosecution statistic of 99% to uphold. The system failed them both in such similar ways, more than anyone else Akira had bonded with during his time in Tokyo.

It was nothing anyone else he kept in his company would be able to fully comprehend. And as such, how could they even begin to understand the loss he felt that fateful winter day when all shreds of hope were stripped from him and laid him bare to the desire to fix what he couldn’t possibly?

So, what would his friends know of the choice he made? They wouldn’t be able to see his point. They wouldn’t be able to articulate just how much he had gone through. They wouldn’t have been able to wrap their heads around the thought that they would have lost if they had gone up against that Igor who dwelled in the Velvet Room. And they would have lost because of him.

He couldn’t regret that choice to make a deal; after all, the detective plaguing him had appeared again in his life, so how could he ever regret it? Even if he didn't understand quite how to feel about it, even if he didn't understand why the image of his Shadow pressing him against a cell to kiss him kept invading his thoughts. Even if he didn’t know why his heart kept stuttering when he caught Akechi’s gaze.

"This is going to be a long night," Akechi remarked, snapping Akira out of his stupor.

He agreed quietly.

By the time they got back to the cafe, the closed sign had been flipped. It was still rather early in the evening but it seemed Sojiro had left sooner than he anticipated. It worked out for the best, he'd rather not explain Akechi's presence there right now anyhow, and his mind was in such a daze that he had all but forgotten about his guardian's normal habits.

"I'm going to take a bath first," the detective stated as Akira unlocked the door, the jingling bells above greeting them earnestly. He stopped him at the threshold, mindful now that even though Sojiro was gone, Futaba's bugs were still in the cafe. By now the Phantom Thieves would have finished their newest venture according to the schedule they plotted when they restructured their operation. Which meant Futaba was most likely home and most likely listening in. He decided to keep their volume at a whisper.

Not that it mattered, really. Hopefully, he could recruit Akechi as part of their team. Surely, he would join again. Maybe he could convince the rest of them to accept him after their talk. Maybe everything would be okay, fixed. If he couldn’t talk them into it, maybe he could just work with the detective one-on-one. He was sure that’d be something Akechi would be interested in doing.

"I'll go with you," Akira responded. But Akechi merely raised an eyebrow at him.

"No, I'd rather you not. Some time to myself to collect my thoughts would be ideal. You did say something about curry, right?" The tone of his voice was pointed but soothing, like thorns amongst vivid blooms of flowers. Time alone in a bath and time alone preparing food would be another distraction from the tension that lingered in the air around them. However, he saw the logic in that plan, despite the growing anxiety that the moment Akechi stepped out of his sight he would disappear from him yet again. Akira steeled his nervousness so it did not show in his face.

"I could make our curry. Do you want coffee too?"

The smile that shone on the detective's face made the palms of Akira's hands flash with a clammy heat.

"I think that'd be wise, thank you."

They stared at each other for a moment, their gazes holding onto the other for longer than was probably considered a normal amount of time. Akira returned the contagious smile and swallowed hard. “I'll get you some bath things."

Akechi seemed to notice the awkward silence that hung between them before Akira broke it and gave a slight nod, ripping his face away from the situation.

Akira leaned on the door, not minding how cold the evening air was becoming and rested his head on the door frame, arms crossed over his chest. “Just wait here this time? Don't go wandering off trying to be a hero." He attempted to playfully tease the detective, whose line of sight strayed immediately to Akira's eyes once again, sharp and narrow.

"'Trying' is an interesting choice of words, don't you think, Kurusu? Hurry back," he remarked, the air of his words still light and pleasant... and yet it made Akira's stomach churn. He turned on his heel and took the stairs two at a time. Quickly, he grabbed some products he kept on one of his ricketty metal shelves. He snatched some spare pajamas, a clean towel and an unopened toothbrush he had just purchased as a replacement. With as much gusto as before, he raced back down the stairs to see Akechi still standing inside the cafe, struggling in vain to keep his fingers warm with his breath.

Akira handed the items over to the detective and, without another word, Akechi left to go across the street to the bathhouse.

He tried not to think about the possibilities of Akechi leaving again, even as improbable as that seemed, when he brewed their coffee. His sight fell on the chair nearest the yellow telephone when he grabbed the cups. Just a while ago, he had shut down over his grief behind the same counter when he tried to hand coffee to a ghost, desperately trying to bottle his own feelings away. And yet he had let the thoughts override his entire existence, despite his struggle against them. Ironic in a way, that in his attempts to silence his own feelings, he let them consume him.

He didn't know he was laughing until he felt the burn in his throat from doing so.

Regardless, Akechi was alive. Alive and ready to talk to him about the questions that had scorched his very soul since he first uncovered the truth about him.

He wiped the tears falling from his eyes as his laughter broke down into a halfhearted sob. He had no regrets for plunging the world into such a darkness where freewill meant nothing. If desires led to this, he would let them possess him until the day he died.

He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm underneath his glasses and continued to work on getting their drinks ready while the curry was heating up. Akira took the drinks upstairs where he knew Futaba had no bugs and also where it was a far cry warmer than it was downstairs in the cafe. On the second trip down, he brought up the plates of curry and set them on his small bedside table that rocked with the weight of their dinner. He stole a look around the room and nervously began to rearrange it, shoving things that he thought were Akechi's deep into the sagging boxes that framed his sleeping space. There was no way he was going to tell him he broke into his apartment... there was no way he was going to tell him anything about it.

He cursed himself in his panic and told himself to settle down as he heard the chime of a bell downstairs. The lingering nostalgia of a prisoner returning to his cell flooded his mind.

Akira almost fumbled down the stairs.

Akechi was standing in the doorway, toweling his hair dry with a small bucket filled with the products Akira had given him resting on the ground. Their eyes met and Akira held his gaze steady. He couldn’t help a small smile as he let out an inaudible sigh of relief before motioning for the detective to follow him. He could tell under the dim lights of the cafe that Akechi, though obviously more relaxed now that he was clean, was exhausted. There were heavy shadows under his eyes and his shoulders were slumped forward in a way that Akira had never seen from him. Like the effort put forth from just standing upright was dragging him down.

“It’s warmer upstairs,” Akira mumbled, trying to break the tension that surrounded them. “Do the clothes fit you?”

“Well enough until I can get back to my apartment to get my own.”

Guilt gnawed at his stomach but he found himself nodding. “It’s been a month though,”

“It’s January, right? Hm..” The frown on the detective’s face was unmistakable. “I suppose I’ll have to see where I stand with the landlord. I may have to borrow clothes as well until I can replace my banking card.” He shook his head ever so slightly. “Nothing I can do about it at this hour, however.”

No more words passed between them as they both ascended back upstairs and Akechi finally entered the attic once more. He wouldn’t have been able to hear them over the sound of his heart beating in his ears anyhow.

Akira turned on the space heater and strained to listen to it sputter before turning back to look at the detective in his own sweats and shirt, which he noticed were a bit too small but didn’t look terribly uncomfortable. Akechi was looking around the space like he had never been in it before.

He heard him hum a light tune of acknowledgment then sat down on the couch where Akira had set up the curry and coffee.

The thief barely heard him say thank you before starting to eat, albeit very slowly for someone who said he hadn’t eaten in a long while.

Akira didn’t know how to proceed. He, himself, was not hungry in the slightest, but he tried to force himself to have just a bit of the meal.

His mind was still wound up around the happenings of the day. The apprehension he felt was unparalleled to any kind of anxiety he had ever felt before. It was beginning to make him nauseous.

With the third bite of curry, he felt his stomach physically lurch in protest. He desperately needed water.

“Sorry,” He spoke up, catching the detective’s attention. “I need water. Do you want anything?”

Akechi shook his head. “I’m fine.” He murmured, his voice distant like he was lost in thought.

It was almost like delaying the inevitable, he decided, as he rushed back down the stairs to grab a glass of water from the kitchen. His eyes lingered on the spot by the telephone again as he drank the liquid greedily and filled his glass up for another. He needed to calm down. They were going to talk and figure out a way to move past this whole thing, he was sure of it. Akechi would understand what he was going through, and Akira was more confident about that than anything else that had transpired over the last few weeks. He knew, of all people, the detective would see his point of view and agree with him. They had never been on the same side of things but this time… surely.

He took a deep breath and decided that curry was not the best move for his stomach. The coffee was going to make him jittery so he would just nurse a water while they talked. He didn’t even know how to begin…

But it was better than the alternative… never knowing, right?

This is what he asked for…

Akira mustered his bravery and walked back upstairs to the attic, glass in hand.

The sight of an abandoned plate of curry caught his attention.

“It’s interesting—”

His head snapped around to Akechi, who was standing next to Akira’s bed now, examining his shelving unit with great interest.

A chill overtook him, despite the space heater buzzing away in the center of the room. In Akechi’s hand was a piece of paper.

“How you seem to have the same tastes as me.” The detective finished off his sentence before facing Akira, eyes flashing in an almost sinister way. The glare was enough to freeze him to his spot.

“Oh?” Akira asked, his voice as steady as he could manage. He had only been gone a few minutes but something in those dark eyes told him their talk was going to be harder than he imagined it would be.

“Yes. See, while I was showering, I noticed quite a few skin care products you happily let me borrow were brands I used. My favorites, actually. Products that I personally use.” There was no direct accusation in Akechi’s words but the look he was still giving Akira was suspicious, the words he spoke adding to the knot of guilt in Akira’s stomach and the tingling sensation of dread in his arms. He sat down quickly and looked at the detective, his mouth dry despite the water he had just downed. He stole a glance towards the shelf where the cardboard boxes had lived since he moved in and didn't see any more incriminating evidence standing proudly on display, ready to betray him.

"It was bothering me while I was showering and resting why you would have these particular items... considering how meager your funds are and how expensive these products are."

Akira couldn't find words as he soaked up Akechi's explanation. He wanted to argue but decided silence was the best course of action. As if the atmosphere wasn't tense enough, the unspoken truth of the situation was unraveling before him and he could do nothing but sit back and watch it happen as the detective reasoned his speculations with an air of certainty.

"At first, I wondered if you just read my blogs and bought things on my recommendation, but it still seemed rather unlikely."

"Akechi—" He finally found a moment to talk but the other put his hand up as if to stop him from speaking.

"Then I thought, maybe you were stalking me, given how you seemed to put me on a pedestal in your own mind—"

He realized then he was trembling, his fingers digging into his palm. "Akechi—" He tried again.

"But then," The detective's voice grew louder, sweeping over Akira's interjection like a wave of thunder. "I thought, that's ridiculous, I was very cautious of my surroundings and would have noticed someone like you tailing me. So there's only one true conclusion to this evidence, right?"

"I bought them after," Akira quickly covered up without much hesitation. Truthfully, he hadn't really thought of Akechi's blog until just now but this was a smoother solution to the underlying accusation now biting through the detective's words.

There was a bitter sigh of disappointment that filled the air.

"I'm trying my hardest to be patient with you; however, if this conversation is going to be nothing but lies then I want no part of it!" The detective snarled, flourishing the piece of paper in his hand.

Akira recognized it now, the flyer for the maid cafe he swiped from Akechi's apartment and had put it on the shelf of trinkets...

The urge to vomit came back to him as Akechi walked towards where he was sitting. The bright piece of paper was pushed into his face. Akira flinched, shying away from the gesture but Akechi just kept his hand steady until the thief gave in and took it.

"That's my handwriting, Kurusu."

Akira closed his eyes and took a deep breath before slowly opening them again. Sure enough, there was a small note scribbled onto the paper with a time and date.

Shit.

"Why did you steal this from my apartment?"

And thus, their conversation seemed to begin, and Akira already wanted to throw in the towel. This was not how he wanted this to go. In his mind, he imagined it over and over again, him calmly asking questions and the detective being ever so willing to answer every single one of them until he finally understood what it was about him that kept him from moving on. Nowhere in his imagination did he see those dark, bold, inquisitive eyes narrowing on him in malice. He knew he deserved this, his own dreams told him how pathetic he was. Perhaps they were closer to the real Akechi than he had given himself credit for.

"I broke in after you died. I don't... know why...I was desperate for answers, Akechi."

"And you stole my skin care and a flyer of all things?"

With another deep breath, Akira leaned forward and rested his head in his hands. "And some clothes..." he admitted bitterly.

He knew Akechi was going to leave, there was no way he was going to stay now. In his shoes, Akira wouldn’t have. He knew it was a huge violation of the trust that was already dangling by a mere thread. That would have been the thing to snap it for him...

But he was surprised when he felt a weight beside him and heard a deep sigh. He ventured a glance to his left and saw Akechi sitting there, staring off at the shelf across from them.

"Desperate for answers, you say?” 

He nodded solemnly in response.

"Did you find them?" he asked.

"No... Nowhere close," Akira admitted.

The smile on the detective's lips made his chest tighten to the point where it ached.

"I'm not terribly pleased that you did that... but I think I know where you're coming from on that. However, I'm not sure I'll be very sympathetic to anything else you have to say tonight." The chill to Akechi's voice left Akira with a shudder down his spine.

"So... I guess we are going to have our talk now?" Akira questioned softly, hope lingering in his voice. 

A tingling sensation of relief broke up the nervousness he had been feeling since they stepped foot in Leblanc when Akechi leaned back on the couch.

"Yes, I told you we would... I doubt you're going to find it as fulfilling as you originally thought but—"

He couldn't hold back the smile that planted itself on his lips. "It's something."

"I suppose so." The detective chuckled and leaned forward, taking a moment of silence to collect himself. Akira did the same, unsure of where to begin now that the opportunity was finally in his face, sitting next to him, breathing the same air as him. What did he open with? Why he tried to kill him? If he regretted it? Why did he try to sacrifice himself? He still didn't understand why he wanted the answers to this instead of leaving them be, but they picked at him like a prick of a needle in his neck... Just as he opened his mouth, Akechi beat him to the punch.

"Why do you have a Palace, Kurusu?"

He blinked and looked at him quizzically. 

"It seems unlikely that someone such as you would have become that distorted, or even possess such a distorted desire that would manifest in... a structure like that," Akechi explained. "You said a lot had happened, so enlighten me."

He swallowed hard and thought. "I thought I'd be the one asking questions—"

"Well, you thought wrong. I woke up in your Palace, followed around your Shadow which insisted on keeping some demented version of me locked up in a cell. You should answer for that. And a number of other things."

Akira stared at him, his heart once again hammering against his ribcage. He interrupted the question almost immediately, bristling. " _ You  _ tried to kill me twice. Why don't you answer why first?"

"I already explained that to you," the detective hissed. "I told you the reasons why I had to do it."

"Yes, yes." Akira waved his hand around in the air. "Revenge on Shido for putting you through a miserable life, but why didn't you just try to work with us?"

"Why on  _ earth  _ would I trust anyone but myself when my plan was so close to succeeding?" 

"Because I thought we were closer than that."

"Well, you thought wrong. Besides, the same question could be asked of you, Kurusu. Why didn't you try to recruit me if you knew the whole time that I was your enemy? For someone with so many confidants, you weren’t the least bit forthcoming with me either."

His teeth ground against each other in defiance. "Because at that point it was too late."

"Ah, yes, you and your group were so wise to miss every single hint I gave you. It was a shot in the dark, Kurusu. We didn’t trust each other. That’s the end of that story."

"You could have just told us," Akira growled, his fingernails digging into his palm.

"And you could have just confided in me, but we both got thrills from the hunt. Don't pretend like you didn't enjoy getting one over on me."

"You still tried to  _ kill  _ me, Akechi."

"And you still tried to get in my  _ way  _ on matters that don't concern you in the least." Akechi countered, his voice sharp like the edge of a knife. "I am a very observant person; perhaps I had been hoping you'd be the same. I tried to lay on as many hints as possible for you to get it through your collective skulls that I was being coerced. You were a sacrifice to make along the way after years of doing... what I've done. Why should you be the exception?"

Akechi, who had still been sitting beside him until that moment, got up and pulled Akira's desk chair to sit in front of Akira. He didn't make eye contact for a few moments, his words breaking up as he spoke them but he shook his head and sighed once more.

"I decided my own fate the second I heard the news that my actions caused someone's death at the request of Shido Masayoshi. There was no way I was throwing that away and invalidating everything I had crafted on anyone. Even you. So all I had was the hope that you'd outsmart me in some way and save yourself."

Akira was shaking, he was sure Akechi could hear his teeth chattering from pent-up anger threatening to unleash.

"We could have worked together, we both hated the same man. The same man ruined both of our futures. We could have worked together."

That news seemed to register as surprising to Akechi at least. His gaze wavered, the line of his lips formed a steady frown and his hands were loosely cupping his knee as his legs crossed. "What do you mean? Are you talking about the original arrest that led you here?"

Akira nodded. "He was drunk and assaulting a woman... I stepped in and he fell and hit his head then sued me for it. I didn't know who he was but— that's why I have a criminal record."

That seemed to cause another slight reaction in the detective, who looked like he was biting the corners of his mouth to keep from laughing, albeit darkly. "I thought the circumstances surrounding your arrest were odd.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Wait, around a year ago? That was you?" When Akira nodded, that actually made Akechi laugh loudly, covering his mouth with his hand. Akira couldn't help the smirk that cracked away at his anger as well.

“What?” he asked, wondering just why Akechi’s laughter was making his heart feel so light.

“Nothing, nothing. It was just something I found amusing when I saw the gash on his head.” The detective cleared his throat. “I was envious of you even then. I wanted to be the one who hit that bastard.”

Their chuckles died almost instantaneously, Akira taking the opportunity to get back to the subject at hand. 

"You could have just joined us; the offer was there. We could have gotten back at him together, you know?" The thief laced his fingers together and gripped his own hands tightly, staring at them.“

"If you're referring to my death, I was tempted. At first, I was upset that you moved again so quickly... once again interfering with my plan. Approaching you made me angry. Angrier than I had been in a very long time... I had never gone all out like that before..." He bit his lip and looked away as all laughter seemed to die in his throat. "And you allowed me to do it, so for that, I thank you. It's embarrassing to look back on it but... after years of holding it all in, releasing it to the world was... refreshing? Should I have had just a few more moments— I don't doubt I would have accepted your offer."

"But you sacrificed yourself despite your plan. Why?"

Akechi leaned back in his chair. "That, I don't know. It felt like the right thing to do..."

Silence befell them once again as Akira processed the information slowly before breaking it. "Do you regret it? Any of it?"

"Any of it? Of course, I do. But the real question lies with you. Do  _ you  _ regret any of this?"

Akira reeled at the question being turned around on him. "Regret what?"

"You just told me you thought you were going to be the one asking the questions, so I yielded to that. Now, do you regret it?"

He blinked and thought for a moment. He didn't understand what Akechi meant, but those deep brown eyes were peering into him like he was trying to dissect some part of him that had become infected. It was like he was exploring the cause of whatever it was that Akechi was diagnosing him with.

The look of confusion on Akira's face must have made the detective restless because he leaned forward, intensely staring at the thief.

"What did you  _ do _ , Kurusu? Hm? From what I could gather from our interactions in your Palace, the cognition of your friends could not see you because you believe they think very little of you. You kept a distorted version of me locked up like some kind of trophy. You avoided the question before, but you're answering it now. You did something; what was it?"

"I didn't do anything. I was just trying to fix things and get some answers."

"You said that before, but I don’t believe that is anywhere close to the full truth." The detective crossed his arms, his frown returning. "Stop lying."

He almost laughed at the irony.

"Big demand coming from you," Akira countered back with a huff.

"No, it's not that big a demand at all. You said you wanted to talk and I opened up to you about my feelings as you requested, even though I didn't want to. Now, it's your turn."

"You didn't want to?" He couldn't keep the incredulous laugh out of his voice. "Since when has the great detective Akechi Goro ever been able to turn down a conversation about himself?"

Akechi raised an eyebrow and scowled darkly. "Is that truly what you think? My deductions, my reasoning, yes. But myself? Your little group are the only ones who know as much as you know about me. So stop deflecting and answer the question."

"You always talk about yourself, bring yourself up to feel all high and mighty without answering anything at all."

"Tell me why you have a Palace, Kurusu! I'm losing my patience with you." The detective stood up for emphasis of his vocalized frustrations. “You wanted answers, you wanted this conversation to happen, and now you won’t answer me? Why am I even here if you won’t tell me? This was pointless.” He adjusted the clothes he was wearing and began looking around the room, presumably for his meager belongings. He was going to leave again. This time for sure. There was nothing holding him there now. He was ready to wash his hands clean of Akira again.  

"It didn't work, Akechi!" Akira said suddenly in a whirlwind of panic and slammed his fist into the arm of the couch. "I held up my end of the bargain! He confessed and it didn't stick. No one cares about his sins. No one  _ cares _ . No one cares that he did awful things, no one cares that you were gone. No one gives a damn about us." He admitted, trying very hard to keep his voice even despite the cracking in his voice. He could feel Akechi’s gaze piercing him still and heard him sit back down with a creak in the chair in front of him. But he could not bring himself to return to look.

"So—"

"I failed. That's what happened. I failed. But I'm trying to fix that. That's why. I'm changing the world. Reforming society to care." Nausea cramped his stomach suddenly. Admitting failure was never easy, but at least he was trying to make amends by weeding out corruption wherever they found it. In the last week, the Phantom Thieves had acted more than they had in the months since they first began... They were making a difference and it was still a far cry better than handing off the responsibility to adults who screwed the world up in the first place. 

Better to bet on himself than allow the world to fall into ruin. He explained in more details about the trip down to Mementos and what lurked beneath it all. Akira tried very hard to keep his composure as he relived the memory of everyone disappearing before him and just how hopeless he felt when he was face to face with Igor… or whatever god that masqueraded around as his guide all these months.

Akechi listened intently as he spoke, offering soft hums every now and again until he talked about the deal he was offered by the god. He asked very few questions for clarification when Akira explained the Velvet Room but otherwise was peculiarly quiet. 

"Wait…” The detective held up his hand to cut Akira off from his explanation. “Let me see if I follow you… you were given a proposition to revert the world to the way it was... or choose ruin." Akechi summed up and Akira nodded.

"Yeah..."

"Tell me you didn't accept."

He returned his fidgeting gaze to the detective. "I'm fixing it; don't you get that?" Akira commented in a reassuring voice. "I'm going to make people care about everything Shido did. It's just taking time."

Akechi's hollowed out laugh startled him.

"And what, exactly, did the rest of your group think about their leader making such a crucial decision that led to this situation?"

“What situation?”

“Kurusu, you can not play ignorant with me much longer; I’m growing rather vexed with it. Don’t try to tell me that your deal with a god who put this whole… ‘thing’ in place didn’t have consequences. Those people at the train station, all I heard about on the train was the Phantom Thieves’ growing reformation of society.”

Akira steeled himself and took in a staggered breath, but Akechi beat him to his excuse.

"Surely your teammates don’t know. Of course, they don't know... they wouldn't have allowed you to make a bargain with your enemy and put the world into some mindless state.”

"So what?" He spat out suddenly, his anger piquing once again. "Why should that matter?  _ I'm  _ their leader and I made that choice. I can't rely on them all the time. They need strong leadership to make the calls sometimes and that's what I did!"

"And you don't regret it."

"Not one bit. How can I when it's resulted in this?" He motioned towards Akechi. "You're alive, you should be grateful."

"You single-handedly damned the entire world to a mental state where they believe anything  _ you  _ tell them. Excuse me for not at all being grateful. You don’t get to turn this around on me and say I’m to blame for any of your decisions!"

Akira sat up straighter, leaning forward and digging his fingers into his knees. "I saved the world from ruin."

Akechi laughed at him dauntingly. "You are using the Phantom Thieves to gain credibility and control of people's minds. This is what you did before with all your victims, but you applied it to the entire world." He snapped back, his voice growing more and more heated.

"I saved the world!" Akira repeated loudly.

"You  _ ruined  _ the world with your own hands, don’t you get it?”

He recoiled at the accusation. "What?"

"You just took away everyone's right to their own opinion. How can you not see that?" There was a barking laugh in Akechi's biting words. "You just enslaved the entire world to your own righteousness."

"Justice, you mean." Akira corrected him.

"Is this your definition of justice, Kurusu? Absolute rule? And here I thought you were supposed to be some sort of hero. From where I’m sitting, I'm far more of a hero than you will ever be." Akechi mused without any sort of humor. Akira's temper had long simmered over into steam, and he stood up, looking down on the detective who sat before him.

"You, who  _ murdered  _ people."

"Yes, I, who murdered people." Akechi stood up and stared him dead in the eye. "I, who tried to murder you. I always felt so inferior to you, in some way looked up to you. You always handled yourself strictly by the principal to save others from situations they can not possibly get out of on their own. But here you are now, gloating about saving the world by imprisoning everyone in it, doing the exact thing you condemned people for before.” The detective laughed again and shook his head. “I feel nothing but  _ pity _ for you."

"You should understand my position!" he yelled in frantic disbelief. This wasn't right, none of this was right. Akechi was the only one who could truly understand him, know exactly how lonely he had been... know the sacrifices he made to even still be alive and still doing good things in this world.

"Well, I don't. How are you any different than Shido, who used everyone around him to climb to the top of a pile of bodies?" Akechi's voice was untapered and quivered with volatile rage. "The world is your pile of bodies. Who died and made you  _ God _ , Kurusu?"

"You did,” Akira hissed back, fingers curling into a fist at his side. “You and your 'holier than thou' attitude when you would have done the exact same thin—"

Akechi's hand flew through the air, striking him across the face loudly. The stinging pain in his cheek grounded him suddenly. Akira instantly sat down, his hand gingerly touching the spot on his face. He blinked back unshed tears he didn't realize were there and looked up at the detective, whose breathing was incredibly ragged. His hand hung in the air still, trembling.

"Don’t assume we are similar! I would have let the world be ruined. Do you know what it's like to be a slave to someone's whims? Do you know what it's like to try to fight against fate and lose? I'd have rather the world dissolve away than take away the freedom of choice and opinion from people who did nothing wrong! Don't you get it? You became part of the very system that wronged you. You became a warden and the world is your jail. Don't pretend you did all this for everyone's sake... or even my sake when you did it for yourself."

Akira stared at him in shock, letting the words soak in as he nursed his cheek. 

"That much was evident when you treated me like some prize—"

"No..." He whispered.

"That your friends didn't see you, which is a reflection on you more than them. You think so little of them—"

"No—"

"And you cursed them to do this forever, without even thinking of them? As selfish as you think I am, I would have at least taken a chance to fight. That's what I've done my entire life. And you just ran away from your struggle because you feel so inadequate. You made the wrong choice, Kurusu. If you thought I would see it your way and accept it, you thought wrong."

He covered his ears with his hands and pulled his knees up, squeezing his eyes shut behind his glasses. His cheek throbbed as he stifled a soft sob. "No," he repeated. "I did the right thing."

"You did the wrong thing because you were weak." He heard Akechi's muffled voice.

"No, no, I did... did the—?" He tried convincing himself weakly but realization was dawning on him. He made the wrong choice.

He barely felt the weight of the detective sitting next to him again until fingers wrapped around his wrist to pull them away from his face. He lashed out, ripping his wrist out of his grasp. "S-stop." He whined, trying to curl into a tight ball. 

"Kurusu, do you understand?"

"No, no I don't. I tried, I  _ tried _ . And I still screwed up."

"Kurusu." Someone called to him, a deep... dark voice of a much older man. His body froze, paralyzed at the sound of his name being spoken in such a demeaning way.

"Stop resisting." He struggled against the hands that claimed his battered wrists again. He was aware of his own breathing, ragged and heavy. He was wheezing from the pain that wrapped around his body where his interrogators hit him over and over again. The drugs that itched under his skin did nothing to dull the pain, only flood his mind with a numbing blanket of calm smothering the rising panic in his chest. 

"Leave me alone!" He desperately cried out.

"Kurusu, I'm not going to hurt you," the man answered but he didn't believe him. 

"I didn't do anything wrong. I didn't—" The drugs in his body began to work quickly, coursing through his veins as he tried desperately to fight against his assailant. He didn't dare open his eyes, hoping it would all go away if he willed it hard enough. He begged for them to stop, tried to lash out as those hands tried to restrict his movements and detain him.

They were going to hurt him again.

They were going to break him down until he complied.

"Akira!"

He shuddered at the sound of his name which was desperately called to him, trying to rouse his attention.

He whimpered, still valiantly guarding himself against further attacks on his body that seared through him, but he ventured to open his eyes.

Akechi's face was what greeted him, filled with worry evident in the way his brows knitted together. "Akira, can you hear me?" he asked, concern probing his words.

The dark room he had been expecting dissolved from his vision. He was curled up on his couch in his room, heaving. Cold sweat dripped down his neck and streaked across his face that he was protecting with his arms.

"Wh-what?" He stuttered—perplexed—his voice surprisingly hoarse like he had been yelling for hours.

"We were... talking,” Akechi hesitated before continuing, “and you suddenly were very unresponsive." The detective explained in a somewhat soothing voice. It was apparent that he was a bit alarmed by whatever had happened in the way his face was drained of its usual color. 

"But then you started yelling..." Akechi said with a frown. 

"Akechi..." He breathed out, his body ached with movement but the detective was helping him sit up and gently brought his hand up to Akira's face. He flinched and moved away from his touch, but Akechi wiped away his tears even still.

"Come on, I think you need to rest." The detective held out his hand but Akira didn't take it. He felt very numb sitting on his futon and absently stared at Akechi before letting his shoulders finally relax as he recovered.

"Akechi... I messed up." He whispered, voice jagged with realized despair. "I really messed up, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did." He was answered honestly.

"Because I was weak..."

The detective nodded.

"I was so _ tired _ ,” he wallowed solemnly. “I’m just so tired of being a burden, I thought this could redeem me. I thought this is what I needed to be loved… or something." He mumbled. "If I could just take on this, everything would be forgiven... I wouldn't be replaceable. I needed to be a Phantom Thief." He hardly processed the words he spoke, exhaustion wracking his body as he calmed down. The drugs that were certainly not pulsing through him still wore on in his mind, numbing his body to the phantom pains that unleashed themselves on his body.

"If I wasn't a Phantom Thief, then no one would want me. Not even you would have wanted me if I hadn’t. So, I tried to do it on my own. Get over your death, be reliable again... become the savior this world needed. Take down everyone who stood in my way..." He swallowed dryly and finally looked into Akechi's eyes.

"I just.. became obsessed with the idea of doing it all on my own, grieving all on my own, being a leader all on my own, so people would see me as someone... admirable."

"That didn't work though." The detective commented softly as if being cautious that the wrong words could set fire to a gasoline soaked situation.

"No, I don't think it did. I think they are scared of me, honestly. And I don't blame them. I just know that without the Phantom Thieves, I'd just be some kid with a criminal record and no future. So what good am I without Joker, Akechi?"

"Kurusu Akira, someone who stands up for his own justice and helped several people in terrible situations see hope. Kurusu Akira, an idiot who doesn’t even see how he’s already made a difference in the lives of so many." Cold hands slid into his own and gripped them. "You helped me far more than you know."

"You died." He felt his lip trembling.

"And I freed myself by doing it. I made my decision about saving your group on my own. It was the one good decision I ever made, so don't discredit that." One hand slipped away from Akira's iron grip and wiped stray tears that slipped down his cheeks.

"You need to stop looking at yourself as a savior. You are not god, Akira. You can't save everyone, but you also can't condemn the entire world for your own gain; do you understand?"

Akira did. His face flushed with shame. The thieves had lost sight of why they were doing all this before... and here he was, rescinding on that point once again. 

"Goro." He started, using the other's given name for the first time since the Palace. "You said earlier... that I thought of you as a trophy. I don't. I really don't." He gave a watery sigh, trying to keep his tears contained. "I was so mad at you, I wanted to try to understand why you did what you did. I kept trying to figure out what I could have done differently...How you really felt. I don't know why I needed to know what you thought of me or if you regretted everything but I... felt I needed to discover the true you and I kept coming up short."

"I don't know why... We didn't know each other that well." Goro mumbled softly. 

"Because you are important to me. Whether I like it or not. I just needed to understand. I wanted to be strong like you, and I couldn't let it go. I'm sorry—"

A finger was pressed to his lips to cut him off. "Don't apologize to me. We are past that." It was evident in Akechi's words and the frown that graced his lips that he was not happy about any of this, but his reassurance helped put Akira at ease.

"We both made mistakes. I was stuck in that Palace for a very long time, and I had some time to self-reflect... As I said, I regret a lot of what I did but I can't change the past..." There was some unspoken secret in those words that Akira caught onto, but the detective did not elaborate.

"And neither can you. So now the only question really is... do you regret it?"

The earlier question voiced again hit him hard, a blow to his pride that winded him. His stare was steadfast, those dark, mysterious eyes gazing into his very soul.

"Yes." He admitted with a nod. "Yes, I do."

"This may be against my better judgment but..." Akechi stood up from his crouching position. "I believe you. I think that's probably all we should discuss tonight. We can talk more in the morning."

"Wait..." Akira frowned. "You aren't mad?"

"Oh, I'm furious. This is hardly over but it's been a long day, and we are both exhausted. I think here is a good place to stop." He saw Akechi hesitate and almost asked him to continue but he beat him to the punch.

"We have a lot more to discuss. I'd like to explain a few things about myself at the very least... despite what you said about me never missing an opportunity to speak about myself, you know next to nothing about my situation and I'd like a chance to explain."

Akira nodded slightly and took a moment of silence. He felt stupid for reacting so strongly. It left him feeling drained and weary down to his very bones which ached in protest as he stood. "Goro, do you think we can fix this?"

"We?" The detective tilted his head. 

"Yeah, we... I need help." He was realizing all too quickly the gravity of the situation he agreed to. He couldn't believe how blind he had been to his own biased justice... 

Goro tapped his chin thoughtfully. "You said you regret it?"

Akira winced before nodding. "I do..."

A loud sigh escaped Goro, who crossed his arms over his chest. "Yes, I can try to help. But you need to come clean to your group first, or something... You said a god was involved, correct? Then we need all the help we can get, and you owe it to them… as much as I detest saying so, their help is essential."

The thief fought a relieved smile with gripping fear. "They will hate me…”

“Maybe so, but I think you need to have more faith in them. Those are your insecurities you are projecting onto them.” Goro audibly scoffed. 

He mulled over the possibility, knowing that the discussion coming up may be even harder than the one he just endured. His cheek ached. Akira brushed his cold fingers against it gingerly. “You’re right… sorry...” He whispered.

“I told you, don’t apologize to me.  _ I’m _ sorry I lost my temper.” He heard Goro whisper hoarsely. Upon realizing he was nursing his stinging cheek, he dropped his hand. The detective continued. “I don’t know how to handle any of this, Akira. I’ll be honest. But I shouldn’t have done that.”

And that’s when Akira felt himself smile achingly. “Honesty, huh? That’s… what I need.” 

“What do you mean?”

Akira wrapped his arms around his chest and shivered again. “They aren’t… honest with me, Goro. No one is. They don’t think I’m a good leader anymore. I can tell. They still just go along with it because they can’t tell me otherwise. They just don’t realize it’s making me feel crazy and like I’m not good for… anything, really.”

Dark eyes cut across to him once again in puzzlement, but Goro didn’t say anything.

“You noticed… right? My skills in the Metaverse were—”

“Subpar at best? Yes, I noticed. I noticed before, too… when we were fighting in that room something was off.” 

The wound to his pride rivaled the ache in his body as he watched realization dawn on the detective’s face. “Wait, the interrogation room…? Was that what—” Goro brought his gaze down to his own hand that he coiled tightly and let fall limp at his side. The same hand that struck Akira across the face.

“It’s affecting you worse than you were letting on?”

A small part of the inside of Akira’s chest felt like it was cracking open and releasing something deep and sinister into the air he was breathing before it evaporated. 

“Yes.” He admitted. “It was horrible. I wasn’t in control, I wasn’t myself. I couldn’t remember things. I felt like I was going to die o-or fade away completely. I didn’t even know where I was, and that feeling comes back any time I’m....” He trailed off, stealing an overly fascinated look at the hem of his jacket. He didn’t want to finish the sentence, it would be like admitting more issues than he already had tonight. He felt raw and exposed, like a wound rubbed in salt. Tears still clung to his eyelashes and were obscuring his vision, but he refused to let them fall. He settled for just staring at his hands, hoping Goro would pass over the conversation.

“I see…” He heard Goro say finally. “We won’t talk about it right now.”

“Thank you,” Akira whispered gently.

"Don't thank me, We still have a lot to talk about. You also are going to have to trust me a little bit."

"Back at you," Akira countered with a probing tease despite how weary he felt.

"I think that will take some time for both of us. But for now, we should sleep."

He brought his attention up to Goro, who was standing over him. “I think… I do trust you. I haven’t told anyone this because I didn’t think they’d understand.”

Akira was greeted with a frown and an inquisitive look. “I don’t condone what you did,” he said bluntly.

“I know… but you’re still here… I kept thinking of you as someone I could never understand. Even though you seemed to understand me the most. I couldn’t put you together in my mind. I couldn’t figure out why you meant so much to me. But I think I know why but…” The cracks that formed in his chest filled with something warm and comforting for the first time in so long. He couldn’t put his finger on why he felt so soothed in that moment of utter vulnerability but… it helped lull him into a confident sense of ease.

“I’m not someone who can just take your pain away,” Goro commented softly. “And I’m not the best person to turn to for advice… the only thing I can do is help you try to fix things, I suppose.”

Akira nodded and felt a smile creep on his face. “Thank you.”

“As I said, don’t thank me. I haven’t done anything except tell you how badly you fucked up everything.”

“Yeah, well. I needed that. And you listened to me. I needed that too, I think.” He remarked before standing up again. His legs trembled, but he held himself up.

He hadn’t talked this much in a very long time; his voice was cracking a lot more than it had been before they ventured upstairs. Exhaustion hit him in tremors. 

“Finally going to listen to me when I said you needed to sleep?” The detective jeered at him and Akira yielded with a yawn. 

“Yeah, yeah. Who are you, Morgana?”

“Oh, I’m far more bothersome than that.” Goro retorted, clearing the way so Akira could make his way to the flimsy mattress. 

“Doubtful.” The thief teased lightly and settled down onto the bed. Without another word on the subject passing between them, Goro turned his back so Akira could have some privacy as he stripped down his clothes. He audibly gasped when the shirt stuck to his matted down wounds and ripped the barely healed skin. 

“Shit.” He whispered as the newly forming scabs were peeled away from the mangled scratches they were trying to protect. He examined them disdainfully and clicked his tongue. He looked up to see if he had alarmed the detective with his exclamation of pain and saw the top of his head descending down the stairs.

“I’m going to grab a first aid kit,” the detective announced without looking back. “I’ll be right back.”

Akira felt himself smile ruefully again. He wasn’t really used to someone trying to take care of him. He had been on his own since he returned back from that room that haunted his memories. None of his friends seemed to take notice of how badly his time in the interrogation room had affected him and had to deal with his wounds on his own. He thought, at first, he had been okay with that. In reality, it was very much the opposite. He needed someone to notice and ask him if he was okay… He had just never been the type to try to make his problems someone else’s.

He continued getting changed, and soon Goro rejoined him and gave him the first aid kit. “Here.”

Akira nodded and began tending to his cuts and scrapes from his harsh landing in Shibuya. He heard the detective click his tongue in irritation. 

“Is that really how you disinfect wounds? It’s amazing you lasted as long as you did. Give it over.” He sat beside Akira on the bed and took his arm. Carefully, he began to clean out the specks of white fibers that were caught in his jagged skin. Silence fell between them besides the occasional ‘hold still’ from Goro and the hiss of pain from Akira once the antiseptic hit his cuts.

“You still have one on your head too.” He blinked and absently felt his forehead. He flinched as his fingers passed over the cut. He had forgotten about the Warden shoving his head into the ground.

“Here, it’ll just take a second.” Long fingers grabbed his face and tilted his chin up towards the light that was flickering above them. Gracefully, Goro lifted up Akira’s bangs and treated the wound with effortless ease.

The moment was quiet, and Akira tried his hardest to swallow down any words that would ruin the settling atmosphere around them. 

“There, that’s better,” Goro announced, pulling away and gathering the used supplies to throw them out.

“Thank you.” Akira rubbed at his forehead gingerly and saw the detective shrug. 

“If you knew how to do it properly—”

“Shut up, Goro, and accept my thanks for once,” Akira shot back before Goro could continue. 

Dark eyes glanced back at him in amusement. “Fine, I suppose I can. You’re welcome.”

“That’s what I thought.” He muttered, a tingle of satisfaction coursing through him. “Do me a favor... Be here when I wake up, okay?” Akira asked, pulling back the sheets to the bed.

“I’ll be right here on this futon,” Goro scoffed. “Just how old is this thing?” he remarked before catching a spare pillow Akira threw at him. 

“Probably older than us…”

“Hm… well, it’s better than sleeping on cardboard boxes, I assure you.”

Akira couldn’t help but smile faintly. As soon as the thief was laying down, he could feel his consciousness fading fast. It had been a very long day, but he assumed that the next day would be even longer. He barely had enough energy to pull the blanket up over him, let alone get properly ready for bed, but he would just have to deal with it until tomorrow morning. Akira rolled over as the light went out overhead. The dark was isolating but he could hear Goro shifting to get comfortable on the lumpy futon and felt… contented. For now anyhow.

“Goro,” he called out after a moment. 

“Yes?” the detective inquired, a yawn hugging his words.

“I’m glad you’re alive,” he muttered loudly before sleep overtook him.

“I’m glad you’re alive too…”

He wasn’t awake when the response came, and Goro was grateful for it. It took him a while to actually fall asleep as he contemplated the entirety of what they had discussed. Nothing sat comfortably with him; nothing felt concrete or even smoothed over. It was a stepping stone to a resolution, and that would just have to do for now. They were just building their foundation all over again.

As the night weaned on, soon the only sound that occupied the room was the whirring of the space heater and the heavy, even breaths of the two occupants sleeping with the comforting hope that they would both try to truly understand each other and change the world.

It was a peaceful night, indeed.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, the second chapter should be along soon.  
> Twitter: @chromiekins


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